Prologue
Long ago, I could fix things. I used to be very skilled at that sort of thing. I could repair a crushed birdhouse or fix a cracked window. My specialty was mending bones and curing fatal illnesses in stressful circumstances. But that was long ago. My mother was as good as, most likely better than me at fixing things. As I rock gently back and forth in the tiny wooden rocking chair set in a dark corner of my little bedroom, I recall the name given to my mother. I remember people everywhere recognizing her as Miracle Mai. The name suited her well back then, though it was merely a nickname. Mother's full name was Maitenai Keshi. I treasured the respect the title Miracle Mai brought to not only her, but also me. I remember when I would stride proudly down the path of a familiar village, and everywhere heads would turn. Faces would light up in recognition like flecks of snow catching fleeting rays of sunshine. I was well known and cherished for my mother's and my talents, and I thought my life was complete. Everywhere people would whisper about how my mother was the great Miracle Mai. I had inherited her gift, and invented a few tricks of my own. I had my pride, my accomplishments, the happiness of a person whose life had been given back to them; all bundled up inside of me. How could I ever fit any more emotions into this tiny body of mine?
I could fix things. I could mend bones, cure illnesses, even accomplish childishly simple things such as removing moles and warts and curing acne. But, if I had that much talent and potential inside of me, why can't I mend my broken heart?
I cross my ankles and fold my hands in front of me. As I stare blindly down at my clasped hands with cloudy lavender eyes, a vivid memory embraces me with warm, welcoming arms.