Sapphire Amethyst Topaz

“Poppy pods and roses bloom, fly me now beyond the moon.” She intones this spell as if it were a prayer, and then, she's off: a little blonde girl jumping from the carport roof with an open umbrella in her hand.

This time, just like all her other attempts to fly, she drops straight to the ground, much like the pears from the tree next to the carport. And just like so many times before, she twists her ankle upon impact. There’ll be ice and a tensor bandage.

Even though her spell did not work, her faith is not shaken. Once recovered, she’ll be running up and down the driveway, trying to take off like a plane on a runway. And she’ll perch on leafy branches, hoping to acquire bird skills. Then, she’ll jump out of the trees, flapping her arms as if they are wings.

“You’re not a bird,” Toby admonished, placing a fresh bag of ice on yet another sprained ankle. “You look like a little chickadee," her sibling continued, "but you're not. Stop jumping out of trees and off roofs.”

While she convalesced, Toby boiled an old bedsheet in black dye, hung it to dry, then sewed it into a cape and presented the charcoal-grey garment to her: "I declare you Sapphire Jewel, witch.”

“That's right,” she said, “I am a witch, aren't I?!"

"Yes. And I am Amethyst Jewel. We are the Coven of the Jewels.”

"Wow," she said. "What's a coven?"

"Magical people who stick together and do good things for the world.”

“And I'm in the coven?”

“Yes!”

“Can Topaz be in it too?" Sapphire petted the tabby cat lying beside her. Topaz purred and rolled over for more.

"Topaz is your familiar and, yes, considering her name, she must be in our coven.”

A few days later, Amethyst found a broom, just the right size for an eight year old. “This isn’t a flying broom, Sapphire. Maybe someday, but for now, it's just for protecting you.”

Amethyst discovered it in one of the secondhand shops the two sibs liked to scour for costumes. Sometimes, when Amethyst was babysitting Sapphire, they would open their trunk, stored at the back of Sapphire’s closet, and take from it dresses, stoles, shoes, capes, hats, jewelry. And they would dress up, sometimes like flappers, occasionally as witches, very often as elegant movie stars.

One night their mother and father came home earlier than usual from a party. Yawning "goodnight", their mom went off to bed. Their father poured himself a whiskey, took a slug, then turned sternly to his offspring. He ordered the teenager, who was standing very still, to get changed.

“But we're playing dress up,” Sapphire protested. Before she could say another word, their dad hit Amethyst. As bright red blood spilled onto the ivory satin gown, their dad muttered: "No son of mine..." and abruptly left the room.

Sapphire brought a bag of ice for her sibling's nose.

“I will have to leave, Sapphire.”

“You can’t leave. We’re a coven.”

“The thing about a coven is you can be far away and still together. I will always be with you.”

The next day Amethyst was gone.

Sapphire put her cape and broom and the bloodied dress into the trunk. Months passed and still she did not hear from her sibling and still she did not open the trunk.

And then one day a postcard arrived for her. It was postmarked San Francisco and had a picture of a sparkling amethyst on it. On the back beside her name and address was a hand drawn heart wearing a witch's hat, and Sapphire knew who it was from.

That night, moonlight painted her bedroom in strokes of silver. Burrowing into her closet, she lifted the trunk’s lid. Rhinestones and sequins glinted amidst the silk and crinoline, but it was her cape and broom she was looking for.

Crawling out her second-floor window, followed by Topaz, Sapphire took in the day’s lingering scents of flowers and fresh mown grass. Amber lights glowed in neighbours’ windows.

Storm-grey cape billowing in the breeze, Sapphire scurried across the roof, her sneakers holding fast to the rough, scratchy shingles. Topaz’s paws were made for such lofty sneaking so she went on ahead to a little roof of corrugated plastic that connected to the carport. Crossing it easily, she landed on the flat carport roof.

Amethyst had warned Sapphire that the little roof couldn't bear her weight, so she carefully placed one foot in front of the other along the centre beam, holding her broom as a balancing pole while muttering incantations.

The carport roof still held the warmth of the day’s sun as the little girl glided across it to the pear tree. Moon-kissed wisteria wove in and out of the tree’s branches, mingling mauve racemes with white blossoms. Her skinny arms embraced the sturdiest branch. Hoisting her legs up onto it, a shower of fragrant petals shook loose.

The duo climbed down the tree and quickly tiptoed across the driveway to "the prickle tree". Amethyst was the only one to ever dare to take clippings from this tree to decorate the house at Christmas. Sapphire feared there wouldn’t be any holly in the house this year; in fact, maybe no Christmas at all without her coven-mate.

The stealthy pair sneak across the front yard to reach the big oak tree at the side of the house. Next door is the immaculate lawn of Mr. Snill, who mows and tends to his yard like it is a putting green. Scrambling down a little cliff, she lands in the Snill yard. Topaz falls in behind, her moon-shadow disappearing and reappearing as they creep across the lawn.

When they reach a gate of weathered wood they pass through it. Two steps down and they're in a stretch of wilderness bathed in moonlight. It is here Sapphire will converse with the coven and Amethyst. Positioning herself on the lowest branch of a tree, she looks up to the stars.

"Amethyst, remember you said that maybe someday my broom would fly? Well, it’s going to happen soon. And you should be here for it.”

The following week, Sapphire stood on the roof of her witch's hut (formerly her playhouse), ready to catch the wind. Thinking of the Jewel Coven and Amethyst, she clutched her broom and positioned her cape to catch the full force of a gust. She could feel it on its way, like a storm brewing.

“Poppy pods and roses bloom, fly me now beyond the moon.” The wind arrives with a magical force. And in a split second she is airborne. The exhilaration in her heart grows with the height of her ascent. For a moment she wonders how she will get down, and then she knows that returning will be easy.

And she also knows that Amethyst will return - probably in time for Christmas.