Excerpt from “Wishmaker”
The sun rises and I open my eyes to see the light of the new day. I stretch open my petals so that light can hit every inch of me. The warm rays on my face make me yawn. The sun feels like a blanket and makes me want to fall back asleep. I ponder dozing back off for a minute when I hear the morning birds start singing. My friends next to me also begin to wake to the songs of some bird letting the world know it is morning. A field of yellow and white flowers all open as the sun moves further into the sky to cover the whole field. I look to my left only to see that another one of my friends has bloomed. Over the night her yellow petals shriveled up to become wispy white puffs. During her slumber, she has become a whole new flower. Her new look comes with a new attitude. She is standing taller, she is acting more confident, I kind of hate it. She is beautifully round and fluffy and I tell her that, but the ping of jealousy in the back of my head reminds me that I have not yet bloomed into a wishmaker. I push the feeling back down. I know my time will come, but I am starting to hate this yellow color.
The birds begin their daily search for worms. They fly down into our field and peck at our roots hoping a squiggly worm will come out. A rather large group of them have come down this morning. They are not having much luck. Across the field, I see two boys walking towards me. I see these two often as they cut across my field almost every morning. The smaller one yells something and points to the large flock gathered in the center of the field. I can guess what is about to happen. They both go full speed ahead towards the birds, screaming while they do so. Every bird scatters. The two boys fall over laughing, landing on at least two wishmakers. They do not notice this and get back up and exit the field. Wasted wishes break my heart.
The sun has gotten higher in the sky, and the bees have come out to say hello. Bumble bees, honey bees, and sweat bees all buzz around the field making visits to their favorite flowers.Bees amaze me. They fly all over the world to create honey and to care for their queen. Bees have a purpose, I don’t. I just stand here in the field. Sometimes I wish I could be a bee. They spend their days working hard for themselves and their hive. We flowers only have one job; to grant a wish. We have to wait our whole lives to bloom and then get one chance to grant a good wish. Some of us don’t even get to complete our one goal. Bees are so much more important than me.
Someone lands on my head and I look up. It is a stunning green tinted sweat bee. She takes a second to stretch and shake. The loose pollen falls off of her legs and into my petals. Using her little legs, she walks to my center and picks up some of my pollen to replace what she just lost. The bee sees me watching her. I blush. I love watching the bees who land on me work. Yesterday I did not get any visitors, so today’s feels extra special. The bee begins to do her delicate, graceful dance, her way of communicating. I do not understand what she is trying to say to me, but the dance was delightful to watch. She gives me a small curtsy before buzzing off to visit someone else. I wave goodbye with the wind. I hope she comes to visit again.
The breeze starts to pick up, and I let myself sway with the wind and the air ruffles my petals. I will the wind to blow away all the white wishmakers around me. I never knew you could feel such resentment for your friends. Standing here all day with them just floating around me
has only made my jealousy grow. I try to push the feeling down into my roots, far, far away from me. Down to where the worms can feast on my negativity. Down there it takes a better grasp and continues to grow and spread. I am tired of being yellow. Yellow reminds me of all I have yet to achieve. Reminds me of my flat petals, my chunky leaves, my lack of wispiness. Yellow is the color of failure to me. I hate it.
Jackie Ruff
Biography: I am a 2nd year Environmental Science major. I used to really enjoy doing writing in my free time, but took a break from it for a couple years. I recently returned to it for a class this past Fall.
Artist Statement: I wrote this piece for my WR224 class. My TA encouraged me to submit it to PRISM. I used to do a lot of writing when I was younger, but have not in years besides journaling. This was the longest piece I have written in a long time.
Ingrid Olson
Biography: I am a self taught artist. Art brings me a sense of peace when I am anxious and overall brings me joy.
I love to try and capture emotions and light in my art
Artist Statement: I do art in many different mediums including water colors, colored pencils, and markers.
I am inspired by different poses in the human figure as well as trying to capture scenes of nature.
