HOME | DD

Description
Little paper boats…Every morning he would get up before the sun rose and make them, always watching the nearby lake and the mist over its dark waters. Then it was to the park to send them off into the lake-small messages were always written in them; Hopes, dreams, his deepest wishes and secrets…a message for anyone who might find the fragile vessels when and if they finished their journey, wherever they may wander. It had become like clockwork…sending them off into the morning mist as the sun rose and watching them until they were out of sight.

It had started out when he was an innocent, barely able to-and never much wanting to-leave his mother. He'd always clung to her skirt as she sent out the small boats she'd made for them and they'd watch them as they disappeared out of their view.

Last night had been the eve of his birthday-today he was nineteen years old. As he carefully folded the boat, he wrote a new wish, scrawled in his mediocre handwriting.

I want to find true love-someone who will be by my side through thick and thin; someone to make these boats with me.

Finished, he made his way down to the park as usual and to his accustomed spot. But he did not set the boat into the water. Something had caught his eye-a little paper boat stuck on the dock. Was it one of his? Setting his own down beside him as he laid himself flat on the wooden boards, he reached.

Once the paper was in his hand, he carefully unfolded it. To his surprise, there was writing that was not his.

Happy Birthday.

Description
Little paper boats…Every morning he would get up before the sun rose and make them, always watching the nearby lake and the mist over its dark waters. Then it was to the park to send them off into the lake-small messages were always written in them; Hopes, dreams, his deepest wishes and secrets…a message for anyone who might find the fragile vessels when and if they finished their journey, wherever they may wander. It had become like clockwork…sending them off into the morning mist as the sun rose and watching them until they were out of sight.

It had started out when he was an innocent, barely able to-and never much wanting to-leave his mother. He'd always clung to her skirt as she sent out the small boats she'd made for them and they'd watch them as they disappeared out of their view.

Last night had been the eve of his birthday-today he was nineteen years old. As he carefully folded the boat, he wrote a new wish, scrawled in his mediocre handwriting.

I want to find true love-someone who will be by my side through thick and thin; someone to make these boats with me.

Finished, he made his way down to the park as usual and to his accustomed spot. But he did not set the boat into the water. Something had caught his eye-a little paper boat stuck on the dock. Was it one of his? Setting his own down beside him as he laid himself flat on the wooden boards, he reached.

Once the paper was in his hand, he carefully unfolded it. To his surprise, there was writing that was not his.

Happy Birthday.