The Peculiar Girl and Dreams of Cranes

Origami was one of the few things Stay had that connected her to her mother. A woman she barely remembered. Her face a pale blur haloed in dark brown. Slim fingers and soft hands deftly folded colorful squares of paper into animals for Stay to play with. Stay would lay on her stomach, chin in hands, watching paper fold and fold and fold. Feet kicked in anticipation.

Purple giraffe, pink and brown paisley hippo, blue lion, polka dot fox and every color cat. Every pattern in every color imaginable took the form of cranes. Cranes adorned every crevice and nook of Stays room, slowly spilling out into the house and sometimes outside. A mobile of them circled above her as a baby, the mobile which now collected early morning dusk in her childhood room, rarely ventured into.

Cranes in corners, cranes in socks and cranes soaring down from an open refrigerator. Cranes lining a path to the frozen lake on a bright January day.

Footprints followed the cranes to the lake, Stay followed both. A child skipping, giddy for a surprise, grinning, hair flowing out behind her. Bare skin against the cold winter wind. A childhood whimsy at what she might find.

An empty frozen lake with a small jagged hole. A soft ripple spilled out, then receded.  Then again. Slower, slower. Stay never saw her mother. Stay returned home. Young, cold, old, alone, to a home filled with empty-hearted, color-filled cranes.

Stay dreamed of cranes. Cranes crying frozen tears. Cranes drowning in bright sunshine. Cranes flying with her upon the wings. Her dreams filled with cranes until she could not stand the loneliness of them. She spent years dreaming of cranes and  morning after morning folding them. She made hundreds of them, placing them together to create one larger than life.

Shades of purples, greens, and blues. Oranges and aqua, yellows and reds. And two large patches of black for beady eyes.The towering crane stood ten feet tall and fifteen feet long.

Spring time and a confused young teen, Stay lifted the large crane easily. The smooth paper warm and comforting on her skin, the smell of paper and ink hugged her as she took it to the lake.

Setting it on the edge, Stay peered out to where her mother disappeared. Face to the sun, she took a deep breath of wet greenery and new light. The wood and moss full of life and sounds of beasts roamed around her. Eyes filled with rainbows and cranes, she gently shoved the memorial into the water, a final goodbye.

© Ash Huntley