The coin was no bigger than a dime in my hands.
It was a dime, in fact. Wispy clouds stretched over a cornflower blue sky as I stood at the center of the park, where the wishing fountain stood. The trickling sound of water filled the air as I considered my wish.
I wished I had straight hair. I wished I could talk without stumbling. I wished I smiled more.
I flipped the coin over and over, so small in my fingers. I’d had a hard time finding it on the way there, hiding in some lost corner of my purse. It was the smallest coin, but not with the least value.
I wished something exciting would happen. I wished I wasn’t allergic to cats. I wished I wasn’t so afraid.
I sighed and looked at the coin, at the head of some guy whose name I should know. I probably slept through that part in history class.
I flicked my fingers, sending my coin through the air. It went up until it looked like the sky would reach out and grab it.
Then with a flash of silver, it fell.
I watched it make hardly a splash in the clear fountain as it joined the other glittering coins. So many wishes. Everyone’s dreams and hopes, laying inside a fountain. Gleaming in the water, resting together.
I hadn’t gone to the wishing fountain thinking a dime in the water would make things happen. I went there to see the coins. To see how many people dreamed, and wished, and hoped. I went there to add myself to their crowd, to say I’m there too.
Hands in my pockets, I turned away from my coin. A breeze picked up, playing with my hair as I walked home. Some things I can’t change. That’s okay.
But some things I can.
So I will.