I've folded at least 3,285 paper cranes in the past eight years. How do I know? I keep track of them. Whenever I find paper, I fold one and number it on one of its wings. Then I usually leave it on a desk for someone to find and think to myself, maybe someone will like this: number 2,847.
It started as a habit when I was 16. While other girls my age received new clothes or were thrown lavish parties, I got lectures about never being good enough. In an awkward attempt to be helpful, my mother inadvertently convinced me that I would only find love and happiness because of luck. Not because I deserved it.
'Happy birthday, Jo,'� she said, showing me my gift. I was sitting on the floor in my room, looking for a book to read. I put down the book I was considering when she handed me it to me. It was about the size of a Macy's shirt box and covered in brightly colored Happy Birthday paper. The sides of the box were crisply wrapped and folded; characteristic of my mother's personality.
'Thanks, Mom,'� I answered while carefully taking off the paper. I opened the lid of the box to reveal a thick layer of fluffy white tissue paper. My mother gave me an origami book for my birthday.
'You can make all sorts of things,'� she explained, crouching down next to me. She reached for the book and flipped through its pages. 'You can even make a cup. See!'� She pointed to a picture of a young Japanese girl, no older than 12, pretending to drink from her origami cup.
It was an odd gift, but my mother's expression said that she put a lot of time and effort into it. 'Thanks, Mom,'� I told her, 'I love it. I do.'�
'Wait, wait. It gets better. This is why I got you this,'� she continued, flipping towards the end of the book. 'The paper crane.'�
'What about them?'�
'Well, it is a Japanese belief that cranes represent peace, happiness, and long life. Cranes live for a thousand years,'� she said, using an elaborate hand gesture to show a thousand years.
'When did you buy into that stuff, Mom? You know I'm certainly not superstitious,'� I told her.
'Just listen to me. Cranes mate for life and remain devoted to their partners. The male and female work together to build their nest and care for their young. It's said that if you fold 1,000 paper cranes the gods will grant you a wish. Don't you think it would be something fun to do? It couldn't hurt. Maybe you could wish for a boyfriend or to lose weight. Or something.'� She stopped herself, placed the book gently in my lap, and then stood up. 'I was just trying to help.'� Defeated, she turned around and quietly closed the door behind her.
I turned to see my reflection in my full length mirror. There were hot tears streaming down my cheeks, falling into my lap. My cheeks were flushed and nearly covered by my long brown hair. I could see the dark roots from my self-highlighting job, but I thought it looked funky. Not ugly. A bit of my stomach was showing, but that was because I was wearing pajamas. I didn't think I was that overweight. I did not realize that I was the hideous creature in the mirror, the same image my mother saw.
At the very back of the book, there was a stack of multi-colored origami paper in plastic taped to the cover. I took a metallic gold square sheet and began to fold the paper diagonally as the book instructed. Maybe this was my only hope for love and happiness. I tried not to cry on myself and wet the paper, but fortunately my tears beaded off the metallic sheet. My folding was not as sharp as the book required, so I re-folded some creases several times. You could see the wear from these areas, but I didn't care. Holding this folded diamond shaped paper in my hand, I began to sob loudly. I tugged the tail and neck of the crane outwards and pinched one side inwards to make the crane's face. I spread the wings out and blew a bit of air into its stomach. The crane, although crooked in some places, was beautiful. I stood up and found a pen on my nightstand, then wrote on its left wing: One.
I'm 24 years old now. I live on my own in a tiny studio apartment near Kapiolani Boulevard. From my bed, I can hear the rush of cars outside. Sometimes, because I live on the fourth floor, I peek through the cheap Venetian blinds at the road below. Even at two in the morning, I can count on somebody to be driving by. Once, I folded a crane using sparkly blue paper (Number 3,002) and dropped it out my bedroom window. I watched it float downwards and then spiral in slow motion to the sidewalk. I was hoping someone would find it and it would make their day. But then there was a gust of wind and it carried the crane onto the road where it was crushed by a SUV.
I no longer drop origami cranes out my window.
My mother was wrong about the cranes. They made no difference and now she never brings them up. I had a boyfriend in high school and I dated around in college, but nothing serious. I have long abandoned the fantasy that cranes mate for life and stay devoted to each other. Now I am more convinced that cranes are slutty and selfish and will cheat on you if a hotter, younger crane comes along.

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