On the first day of the new year, she went to church and lit a candle.
She wasn’t religious, but there was something about holy places that called out to her. It didn’t matter which one; all she needed was a place to commune in silence with the universe.
That morning, she talked about gratitude. She counted her blessings – quite literally, in fact. She made it to 83 before she got sidetracked by a cute guy.
Then she made a wish. She always did, at the beginning of a new year. It was such a vain thing, wishing. Wishing and dreaming when the real world and the so-called “real life” was dark and unforgiving.
But she didn’t have to be.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.