I tried my best to look dignified as I walked through the crowded hotel lobby wearing my red plaid pajama pants and carrying my worn writing notebook, a portable CD player, a bag of popcorn, my sunglasses, and my favorite blue hooded sweatshirt. As I pushed open the main door, a rush of night air greeted me. Glad to escape the high-heeled shoes and plastic conversations of the lobby, I followed a path to the back of the hotel. I tossed my pile of stuff on the grass at the top of the hill. Though the air was cooling off, I sat on top of my sweatshirt and curled the edges over my bare feet – a blanket. I looked down at the Mississippi River and watched it reflect the fading colors of the sky. A stillness rested in the air, allowing my thoughts to wander. Looking through my CDs, I quickly chose Coldplay.

Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you

And everything you do

Yeah, they were all yellow

I have always wanted to be the “you” in a love song. I can pretend that I am, but then I realized that most everyone else does the same thing. Grant wrote a tree-hugging song for me, but it just doesn’t compare. It was then I wished I had someone there with me. That person wouldn’t care that my hair was wild from the pool, my cheeks were a little sunburned, my eyes were tired, or that I was unable to form coherent sentences. I have stopped trying to be perfect.

As the sky grew darker, the hotel lights became brighter. Wanting to look at the stars, I picked up my belongings and found a spot far away from the glaring lights. That night, I’m pretty sure I saw a shooting star. What did I wish for? I can’t tell, because then it wouldn’t come true.