Original - Birthday wish
Title: Birthday wish
Author: semisweetsoul
Rating: G
Prompt: #153 jet lag @ tamingthemuse
Summary: What happens when your dream comes true? You make another one.
Word Count: 939
Birthday wish
I had always wanted to travel, to discover the world. My mother told me that it required money, which we didn’t have, despite my parents doing their best to bring food on the table, keep a roof over their three children’s heads, and provide for our desires.
Late at night, I sat on the sidewalk in front of the house, and I observed the planes disappearing into the far horizon or the high sky, imagining their destinations. I longed to be one of those people, lucky enough to fly, crossing the clouds and living as I intended to without boundaries, constraints, eyes wide open to incredible sights, ears wide open to incredible sounds, nose wide open to incredible smells. When my father found me, he feigned being angry, but deep down inside, I could tell his sorrow. He wished his children would follow their dreams instead of having to run after them, and he felt sad he could not help us in that endeavor. My dreams often matched my daydreams - they were both forms of dreaming after all.
The day I turned eighteen, my little sister and my mother baked a giant cake, and drew a plane on the frosting with plum jam. I blew the candles, and then made a wish.
It came true.
Even after working late hours at the local dining place, which worried my father immensely, I could not afford a ticket to the nearest metropolis, and my family was having a hard time. My little brother took sick and naturally, I helped pay the hospital bill. My father’s expression broke my heart. Overwhelmed by his son’s recovery, I sensed his mixed emotions, relief tinted with the unhappiness at using his daughter’s money, thus taking my dream further away from me, out of reach.
The day I turned twenty, my father made a barbecue - a luxury considering we only ate meat on special occasions, beef and lamb being so expensive - and invited the entire family. After I blew the candles and made a wish, the same since forever, and finished my slice of birthday cake, my father took me aside, in his arms, and handed me an envelope, whispering happy birthday in a tearful voice. It was money, more than I had ever seen, enough to go round the world at least a couple of times. I stared at him in utter shock, and we both shed tears, joyful ones for me, doleful for my father.
I did not want to rush towards my dream, so I took time to reflect. I sat in front of the house, as I used to do, and the answer came to me, as an obvious fact.
The day I turned twenty-five, I was working. I was hoping to make it on time, but due to bad weather conditions, the plane landed with two hours delay. My father waited for me at the gate, and as soon as I sat in his car, I fell asleep. I celebrated my birthday with my mother and siblings, my father had left for work long before I emerged. My colleagues had warned me that it took some time for us, flight attendants, to get used to our job after effects. I then understood why flying long-distance flights required spending a few days on location before the return trip, the body needed time to adjust and recuperate from the jet lag.
It was just a minor shortcoming. After all, I flew on a regular basis, visited many countries, and discovered many cultures. Everywhere I went, I sent my family a postcard. My father kept them all in an engraved wooden box, his precious treasure, as evidence and reminder of his daughter’s affection.
The day I turned thirty, they went with me. This time I was just a passenger among the crowd, leaving for a vacation with her family. My sister and brother’s excitement contrasted with my father’s apprehension. I tried to reassure him, and he trusted me enough to calm down a little and enjoy the flight. We built memories those two weeks, the kind we would remember forever.
I met a nice, charming man, and fell in love, unexpectedly. I had never felt lonely, nor had searched for a companion all these years, but you could not fight destiny when it struck.
The day I turned thirty-five, my husband came to the airport, where my plane had landed on time, and surprised me with a party at home. I greeted my father, my mother, my siblings, and we ate dinner, and when dessert came, I blew my candles, and I made a wish. My life had changed and so had my priorities. My father was so desperate for a grandchild. My husband was so desperate for a child. I wished for a baby.
We had twins, a son and a daughter.
I remember the day I had to go back to work after their birth. For the first time since I had first stepped foot into a plane so many years ago, I realized the risks of the job, and the nagging feeling that something might go wrong did not leave me throughout the week. When I came back, and after all the passengers had disembarked, I took a breath, and left the plane for good. I had to quit.
The day I turned forty, my children baked a cake with their grandmother and aunt. My father was beaming with joy as his grandson fidgeted on his lap. Everyone radiated happiness, and when I blew my candles with my daughter’s help, I wished my family that same happiness for many birthdays to come.
The End
Author: semisweetsoul
Rating: G
Prompt: #153 jet lag @ tamingthemuse
Summary: What happens when your dream comes true? You make another one.
Word Count: 939
Birthday wish
I had always wanted to travel, to discover the world. My mother told me that it required money, which we didn’t have, despite my parents doing their best to bring food on the table, keep a roof over their three children’s heads, and provide for our desires.
Late at night, I sat on the sidewalk in front of the house, and I observed the planes disappearing into the far horizon or the high sky, imagining their destinations. I longed to be one of those people, lucky enough to fly, crossing the clouds and living as I intended to without boundaries, constraints, eyes wide open to incredible sights, ears wide open to incredible sounds, nose wide open to incredible smells. When my father found me, he feigned being angry, but deep down inside, I could tell his sorrow. He wished his children would follow their dreams instead of having to run after them, and he felt sad he could not help us in that endeavor. My dreams often matched my daydreams - they were both forms of dreaming after all.
The day I turned eighteen, my little sister and my mother baked a giant cake, and drew a plane on the frosting with plum jam. I blew the candles, and then made a wish.
It came true.
Even after working late hours at the local dining place, which worried my father immensely, I could not afford a ticket to the nearest metropolis, and my family was having a hard time. My little brother took sick and naturally, I helped pay the hospital bill. My father’s expression broke my heart. Overwhelmed by his son’s recovery, I sensed his mixed emotions, relief tinted with the unhappiness at using his daughter’s money, thus taking my dream further away from me, out of reach.
The day I turned twenty, my father made a barbecue - a luxury considering we only ate meat on special occasions, beef and lamb being so expensive - and invited the entire family. After I blew the candles and made a wish, the same since forever, and finished my slice of birthday cake, my father took me aside, in his arms, and handed me an envelope, whispering happy birthday in a tearful voice. It was money, more than I had ever seen, enough to go round the world at least a couple of times. I stared at him in utter shock, and we both shed tears, joyful ones for me, doleful for my father.
I did not want to rush towards my dream, so I took time to reflect. I sat in front of the house, as I used to do, and the answer came to me, as an obvious fact.
The day I turned twenty-five, I was working. I was hoping to make it on time, but due to bad weather conditions, the plane landed with two hours delay. My father waited for me at the gate, and as soon as I sat in his car, I fell asleep. I celebrated my birthday with my mother and siblings, my father had left for work long before I emerged. My colleagues had warned me that it took some time for us, flight attendants, to get used to our job after effects. I then understood why flying long-distance flights required spending a few days on location before the return trip, the body needed time to adjust and recuperate from the jet lag.
It was just a minor shortcoming. After all, I flew on a regular basis, visited many countries, and discovered many cultures. Everywhere I went, I sent my family a postcard. My father kept them all in an engraved wooden box, his precious treasure, as evidence and reminder of his daughter’s affection.
The day I turned thirty, they went with me. This time I was just a passenger among the crowd, leaving for a vacation with her family. My sister and brother’s excitement contrasted with my father’s apprehension. I tried to reassure him, and he trusted me enough to calm down a little and enjoy the flight. We built memories those two weeks, the kind we would remember forever.
I met a nice, charming man, and fell in love, unexpectedly. I had never felt lonely, nor had searched for a companion all these years, but you could not fight destiny when it struck.
The day I turned thirty-five, my husband came to the airport, where my plane had landed on time, and surprised me with a party at home. I greeted my father, my mother, my siblings, and we ate dinner, and when dessert came, I blew my candles, and I made a wish. My life had changed and so had my priorities. My father was so desperate for a grandchild. My husband was so desperate for a child. I wished for a baby.
We had twins, a son and a daughter.
I remember the day I had to go back to work after their birth. For the first time since I had first stepped foot into a plane so many years ago, I realized the risks of the job, and the nagging feeling that something might go wrong did not leave me throughout the week. When I came back, and after all the passengers had disembarked, I took a breath, and left the plane for good. I had to quit.
The day I turned forty, my children baked a cake with their grandmother and aunt. My father was beaming with joy as his grandson fidgeted on his lap. Everyone radiated happiness, and when I blew my candles with my daughter’s help, I wished my family that same happiness for many birthdays to come.
The End