Japanese lucky paper stars are a hallmark of my childhood. My siblings and I would make wishes as we folded the paper, amassing large collections of them in glass jars. As time passes, what happens to these wishes that we make after they have been forgotten? Where do they go to rest? Does someone or something keep them safe, even when they are null and void? A small jar of paper stars sits on my desk, once representing dreams and hopes for the future. Now, it serves as a graveyard, haunted by the ghosts of the wishes made. Am I the keeper of these abandoned dreams?

As I get older and life continues to unfold in unpredictable ways, I reminisce, yearn for, and even mourn simpler times, what used to be, what could have been, and what never will be again.