"The first paper crane folded into a hospital room under flickering fluorescent lights. Luckily, Mom said that. But luck didn't keep the machine from beeping. Or make your fingers cool. "
Jyoti was sitting on a hard plastic chair near her mother's bed, carefully folding a square piece of paper. The room seemed disinfectant and something slightly floral on the table next to the bed. The rhythm of the heart guide has filled the silence, a sound that she has used in recent months. She worked on another paper crane – her finger automatically moved, folded and eliminated money while watching the woman lying in bed.
Her mother, Veronica, looks thinner than she did a few weeks ago. Her previous brilliant eyes, deep brown like Jyoti's, now seemed tired, obscured by the disease. But she always smiled, a sweet and knowledgeable smile, while she looked at Jyoti Fold.
"You improved this", her mother, her weak but warm voice.
Jyoti looked at her, bringing a small smile. "I had enough practice," she said, completed the final fold and lifted sophisticated cranes. She placed it next to the collection of growing paper birds on the table next to the small bed.
Her mother reached out, bringing a weak finger on the smooth paper. "Did I tell you about the legend of thousands of paper cranes?"
Jyoti shook her head, moving to her seat to give her mother all her attention.
"it's an old Japanese belief", starting Veronica, his gentle but regular voice. "If you fold a thousand paper cranes, the gods will give you a wish."
Jyoti frowned slightly. "A wish?"
Her mother nodded. "Some people say it brings health, others say it brings luck. But most believe that he gives the deepest desire of the heart.
Jyoti looks at the cranes she has folded. She has never considered their meaning before.
"Have you ever made a thousand cranes?" Jyoti asked.
"No, babe. But when I was my age, I had a friend who did it. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if she recalled a distant memory. She believes that with all her heart. Every day, she folded the cranes, whispering a wish for everyone.
" What happened? "asked.
Her mother sighed, her fingers outlined the edges of the next paper crane. "She has never ended. Life has bothered.
Jyoti swallowed the bump formed in the throat. "Does her wish come true?"
Veronica smiled sadly. "I don't know. But I want to believe that in a certain way, this is the case.
Jyoti sat quietly, fixing the crane.
That night, after her mother fell asleep, Jyoti was sitting near the hospital room window, the light of the city sparkled outside the glass. She picked up another paper and started folding.
A crane.
Then different.
And another person.
, in the coming weeks, Jyoti has spent every free moment to rush to cranes. At home, between school exercises, during lunch break – her finger still works. She looks for different colors, different patterns, trying to make each crane unique. She whispered her wish in every time, just like her mother's friend did.
, hospital nurses noticed it. Some of them bring her more paper, others look at the admiration for the development of the collection.
Per night, Fatima nurse, a kind woman with hot eyes, sitting next to Jyoti when she was folding. "How much do you have now?" She asked.
, Jyoti sighed, with the neat rows she arranged on the table. "Two hundred and forty three."
Fatima nodded. "It's impressive."
Jyoti smiled weakly. "I have to achieve a thousand."
Nurse put a soft hand on her shoulder. "You know ... Sometimes the desire to come true in the way we don't expect."
Jyoti did not answer. She knows what Fatima means – people are not always improved, no matter how they love. But Jyoti refused to believe it. She must try.
She continued urgently.
, days turned into weeks.
The status of her mother fluctuated – on some days, she seemed stronger, other days lower. Jyoti has never stopped bending.
Per night, when she placed a crane six hundred and tenth beside the others, her mother held her hand and held her hand. "Jyoti," she whispered, almost no whispering voice.
Jyoti looked at her, flashing with tears. "Yes, mom?
"You don't need to do this."
Jyoti shook her head. "I want."
Veronica smiled weakly. "I love you, honey. More than words cannot be said.
, tears behind the scenes in the eyes of Aisha. "So let me do this for you."
Her mother hugged her arms. "You already have."
A day, Jyoti folded her hips, her mother slept deeply into sleep and did not wake up.
Doctors said she was resting, that her body was tired. Jyoti was sitting next to the bed, tightening the last paper.
Fatima nurse stayed with her that night. "Do you want to stop?" She asked gently.
Jyoti shook her head, her fingers trembling while she was arranging another crane. "No. I have to complete.
She works all night, almost unknown the number of hours of the paragraph.
Nine hundred and fifty.
Nine hundred and seventy.
Nine hundred and ninety -five.
Her hand trembled when she came to her last person. A single white crane.
Thousand.
She held the last crane in her hand, looking at him while tears fell on his cheek. "Please," she whispered, her cute voice. "Please let my wish come true."
She put the last crane next to the others, then turned to her mother.
Veronica's breath slowly and peacefully. She just looked into sleep. Jyoti reached out and reached out to her mother, pressing her to her cheek.
She did not know if the wish was operating. But when she was sitting there, surrounded by a thousand small birds, she realized something.
Cranes is not fair for her mother.
They are for themselves.
For hope.
For love.
For force to continue, whatever happens next.
And in some way, at that time, Jyoti knew that – her wish became a reality.