This tale is for my favorite aunt, who is battling some health demons.

May joy and health find you soon!

As the sun set, I put flame to wick.  ”Please,” I whispered, silently wishing.  ”Please, please, please.”  Raising the lid to the quiet grill, I placed the candles on the grate.

“I don’t think you can cook a burger with those.”

I didn’t need to turn toward the smirking wings.  ”Ha, ha.”

“So what did you wish for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”  I lowered the lid.  The butterfly danced on my elbow, piroutting towards my sleeve.  ”And you say you’re not a dreamer.”

“I’m not.”  I held out my cupped hands and he hopped inside, letting my fingers shield him from the icy breeze.  ”I’m practical.”

The wings brushed my thumbs.  ”You, the one who twirls in hardware stores and eats pie for breakfast?”

“And waffles for dinner,” I reminded him.  ”No one said you couldn’t reverse dessert and breakfast.”

His antennae curled in a smile.  “You’re an artist and writer.  You dream, you dance, you wish on candles in a grill.  You see magic in the wind and possibility in an empty pot.  You’re distracted by nothing and inspired by everything.  You’re a dreamer.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing at all.”  His wings brushed against my palms.  ”What did you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” I said primly.  ”Why don’t you make a wish?”

One brush, then two.  ”I don’t know what I’d wish for.”

“You could wish all puppies and kitties could find a loving home,” I suggested.  ”You could wish for spring to come faster.  You could wish no one went hungry or everyone had their own pink golf cart.  Or you could wish for world peace.”

The wind picked up to the left and he shrank down, the tips of his wings trembling in the icy blast.   “Perhaps.  Or perhaps something bigger.”

“Bigger?”  I raised my palm.  His tiny black eyes bored into mine.  ”What could be bigger than world peace?”

This time, his wings curled with his antennae.  ”Joy.  I wish the world joy.”

He was so proud of himself, his wings opening and closing, that I couldn’t bear tell him that his wish would never work.  ”But you already bring people joy,” I informed him.  ”Every time any one sees you, they smile.  Your whole life is broken into minutes of joy.”

The fluttering of his wings grew faster.  ”Really?”

“You always make me smile.”

His wings stopped.  He twisted his head and stared deep into my dark blue eyes.  ”You’re right.”  With a flicker, he hopped into the night and vanished on the tail of the wind, absorbed into the deep velvet of the starry background.

I raised the lid of the grill.  In the darkness, two tiny flames burned.

Like two tiny moments of joy fueled by wishes and dreams.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  A new Cookbook review tomorrow!  Be sure to stop by WordsnWhimsy!

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