A/N: So, this is my first NaNoWriMo story, and I'm actually pretty nervous about it. if you do end up reading this, please please please give me a critique (read: helpful advice or constructive criticism) in the reviews or through a pm. Any advice in any category at all is very welcome! I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

AZS

It was a peaceful place, quiet. There was water to swim in, which, when one imagined hard enough, became home to mermaids and underwater castles and giant squids. All of the wonders of the world- and some from other worlds as well- rested on the bank. This was where we always played. And when we were done, we climbed up on the rocks on the other side, next to the big trees with their roots in the water, and looked at the shadows. We hung on to the overhanging branches and ate the apples we brought with us, since they were the only snacks that the water wouldn't ruin. We talked about things that little kids talked about, like play time and kindergarten, and how mommies always knew what happened in another room, even if they were across the house. And, sometimes, you talked about how daddies could be mean, and it hurt when they hit you. And other times you cried. I didn't understand why at the time, but I cried with you anyway.

But that was rare. Usually, we were happy just to be outside and playing with each other. After all, it wasn't like we got to play together every day. Things got in the way, occasionally, like my violin recitals and your stay-at-home-days, where your daddy took you out of school to spend time with you. And I wasn't allowed to spend all afternoon outside after school, either; I had to come home for dinner. The best time was in the summer. There was no school to go to, and neither of us played town league anything; the days were long, so we played for hours and hours. Those days are the ones I remember the most now.

Those were the days filled with golden light. It pattered onto the ground, and skimmed over the water after it fell through the leaves. I remember our favorite thing to do on the sunny afternoons, after we had sat together on the rocks and eaten our apples, was to catch the light; we imagined, as children are wont to do, that when it was golden, it had fairy dust in it. It was magical, and it was our secret.

We brought jars from home, the ones with the tight lids, so that nothing could get out. We would stand ready, in the shadows of the trees, at the end of the day, and wait until a particularly magical patch of light caught our attention. Then you would leap forward with the jar, and scoop at the air with it, as if the breeze might steal the light away, and the fairy dust with it. I would run up as quickly as I could, at your urging, to slam the lid down on top of the jar and close it tightly, with wide eyes and a pounding heart. When we were convinced that we had enough light, we would open the jars- just a crack; it wouldn't do to have the dust escape- and whisper our deepest, most precious whishes inside. We kept those wishes close, for as long as we could, and hoped against hope that they might come true.

I know now that your wishes were always more desperate than mine, that you needed them to come true, but somehow you always ended up bringing your jars to the river; with a scowl on your face and to open them up and let the light out, or you would tell me you had done it at home, or you jar had gotten smashed. I wish now that you hadn't let them go so soon. I wish you could have held on to your dreams longer, Jay.