I held the pen in my hand, still captivated by its intricate details. The Godmother had mentioned that there were rules to follow when using it. From my perspective, especially at a young age, it seemed odd that there would be restrictions on something meant to fulfill the heart's desires. If this pen had the power to make anything come true, I wondered why there would need to be any rules at all. In my mind, wishes from the heart should be free from constraints.

I gazed at the Godmother, her warm smile radiating a sense of comfort. "What are the rules?"

"This is very important, Sammy. There is only one rule. The wish you write must be of equal importance for you and the person you wrote it for. After you have written your wish, you must close your eyes and say, 'This I wish from my heart.'"

The rule she outlined seemed straightforward enough. Eager to test the pen's power, I look around the room for a piece of paper to write on. "I have no paper."

Quickly, she reached over to the table, picked up a piece of paper, and handed it to me. "That was an easy solution," she said with a smile. "I wish everything were that easy to solve."

Gripping the pen in my right hand, I was ready to write, but before I could scribble a single word, my strength failed me, and I had to let the pen drop from my fingers.

"I guess at one point in our lives, we all need a little push."

With the gentle touch of her index finger on my hand, something extraordinary happened. It was as if a surge of energy flowed into my hand. Suddenly, I could move my fingers freely again, feeling a strength and control that had been absent for a long time. The sensation was invigorating.

"This time, I'll make sure it lasts more than five minutes."

Her statement instantly connected the dots in my mind, bringing back memories of the lollipop girl. I had longed for another encounter with her, hoping that next time, she would fulfill her promise of granting me more time. On the last occasion we met, we played basketball together, and though she had promised ten minutes, I had only experienced five.

My eyes shifted to my parents, who were resting nearby. Observing them, a clear and heartfelt wish formed in my mind. It was as if seeing them in that moment brought clarity to what I truly desired. The love and concern they had shown throughout my challenges guided me to a wish that not only mattered to me but would also resonate deeply with them.

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"I know what I want to write," I told her.

"Amazing!"

With resolve, I wrote on the paper: "The wish I want granted, is the wish of my parents."

"Are you sure that is what you want?"

I nodded, acknowledging her question.

"Place your hand over the written wish and recite the words to seal the deal."

I felt anxious over the possibility of a mistake while writing the wish. Yet, I was conscious of the limited time I had, knowing if I didn't take risks, I would probably not see anything of interest before I was gone. With my eyes closed and my hand resting on the paper, I spoke the words: 'This I wish from my heart."

Unnoticed by me, the inked letters on the paper mysteriously faded away. The pen's small dial, previously showing a higher number, now read 989. This change proved the Godmother's words to be true: the pen indeed counts down each word written with it.

"It is done." The Godmother said. "Now is the time for me to go to bed."

The elderly woman approached the closet door, holding a skeleton key in her hand. She inserted it into the keyhole, saying, "Ensure you safeguard that pen while it's in your hands." As she turned the key, in just a moment, she had vanished from sight.

I stayed awake for a long time last night, waiting for her to show up again. But tiredness won the slapping fight, between my desire to see The Godmother and my fragile body.

The next day, my parents succumbed to the beating of time, not waking up during my interaction with the Godmother last night, each on different sides of the sofa, snoring my sleep away.

That's when I heard a knock on my door.

Immediately, I drew a smile on my face. I knew she would come and help me understand in detail how the pen works.

"Good morning!"

To my disappointment, it wasn't her at the door. The nurse who stood there was undoubtedly pleasant, but her presence lacked the comforting warmth I had been hoping for. In response, I swiveled around and concealed myself entirely beneath the blanket.

My parents began to rouse from their deep sleep at a sluggish pace.

"Here's the paperwork for Samuel Shatner's long-term admission. Once you've completed the forms, you can simply drop them off at the nurses' station."

A wave of despair swept over me, as I had expected this to be just a routine visit. Summoning every ounce of courage, I turned to my father and inquired about the purpose of the paperwork. "Dad, what did the nurse mean by 'long-term admittance'?"

He immediately turned my way, "It's ok, Sammy. We have decided that it is better for you to stay."

I felt trapped, believing that I should have a say in this decision. At that moment, a sense of disappointment flooded over me, and I couldn't help but wonder if my parents were growing weary of looking after me.

I turned to the side, my anger simmering at the decision my parents had made.

My father sat beside me, tousling my hair gently with his hand. "Sammy, I understand you're upset, but we don't have the necessary medical equipment to ensure your safety at home. It hurts me that you have to stay here for now, until you recover."

I stared into my father's eyes, finding the sincerity I was looking for. I have to accept that his words make logical sense even for a child of my age.