day 347

In the fifth grade,
I taught my arch-nemesis how to fold a paper plane.
Now what you probably don't remember about fifth grade
is that everyone is maniacal.
One day during recess,
my very own Doctor Doom lodged a paper plane so far into my hair
I swear the school nurse had to surgically remove it.

I couldn't look at a paper plane for years after that.

Fast forward six years
and I am on a plane heading for California.
The baby next to me laughs like she has just created the ultimate plan to take over the world.
We spend the next thirteen hours harnessing turbulence
and shifting our bodies to prepare for zero gravity.

I look at her and can't help but wonder if babies dream of flying
and if they do,
do they fly with wings or with what they are given?
I pluck an eyelash and wish her a lifetime of safety.

In Japan,
there are 10 year old girls learning how to fold origami cranes for the first time.

Legend has it that if you fold one thousand cranes,
you are allowed one wish
or a happy marriage.
I am the daughter of my mother's trial and errors.

You see, when you fold a paper plane,
you fold the paper vertically down the middle.
The first time I flew on my own,
I cried in the international terminal for a good half hour.
The feeling of home always feels so much warmer
when you are 30,000 feet off the ground.

Last night,
I had a dream my home caught on fire.
I couldn't scream,
but I didn't want to be heard anyway.

What I'm trying to say is

They will try to burn you
but you will not become ash if you do not want to crumble
When winter comes and kills your garden,
you are not wilted prom corsage
You are not first date bouquet
                   the waiter messed up your order
                   today, the sky is gloomy and I do not want to care
                   the girl you love moved far enough for her to forget your touch
                   you washed your cigarettes with your laundry
                   your cell phone is dead
                   you never call your mother
                   your parents are dying
and you have just become a puppet to hands that only want to fuck you

If any of you have ever folded a thousand origami cranes,
did you wish
to fly?
Are your feet still planted in the dirt
like your teeth
and mouth
and tongue?

Today,
I taught a child how to fold a paper plane.

What you do not understand
is that you don't need a thousand of these babies to conquer the dark
and the subtle unknown.
You must have forgotten
that you will never forget what being alive feels like
dancing
on the tip of your tongue.