Every time I pass a dandelion, so beautiful and white, a little puff of snow floating above it’s earthy grassy surface, I have to pick it. I have to place it in front of my ready lips, close my eyes, and think of what my heart most desires. I’ve been doing this since I was a child. I still do it now, I just can’t help it. Wishes have changed quite bit for me.
They’ve gone from:
“Let me have red hair like my favorite cartoon character.”
“Let me go home and find a kitten waiting for me.“
“Let me grow up and become a famous actress.“
“Please let me grow up and become beautiful.“
“Let me find true love.“
And have currently been:
“Just let me be happy.”
I become mesmerized just watching those tiny dancing fairies swirl through the air and frolic in the breeze; carrying my wish off to far away places where magic resides, where my request can be granted. What is it that I find so magical, so fascinating about these glorious little shoots? Is it because I was told that when you blow on them, all your wishes will be granted? Is it because deep down inside I believe in the beauty of magic and despite everything, I hold onto that undying hope that dreams really do come true? Have my dreams come true? No. But I’m still trying. Maybe other children were told this same tale. Maybe they, too, would select these little wonders and marvel at their mystery as they floated off into the heavens. But has this ceased as they entered the world of adults? Do they still take the time, like I do, even when I’m in the city and in a rush, and my eye happens to catch a glimpse of frosted sphere on the side of the street, to stop? Do they reach over for their childhood? Do they reach for the enchantment that lives deep within and despite the negativity, despite the hardened attitude they have taken on, do they close their eyes and send their wishes out into this world full of hope and desire?
I like to think they do. I like to think, no matter what, when we all see a chance to dream and wish for better, we still do.