Hey Lester, smell my dandelion…

If wishes were horses than beggars would ride.

I guess I want to ride.

Because I want a wish. I want wishes. I want a genie granting me wishes, cause then I would wish for more wishes.

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I want to blow the dandelions and wish on each seed.

It’s 11:11, time to make a wish.

Birthday candles every year, I want my wish.

A shooting star, I am making a wish

Thanksgiving turkey…wishing on the wishbone.

Go to Rome and throw a coin in the Trevi fountain, stand with your back to the fountain and make sure to throw right hand over the left shoulder.

The concept of a wish, the aspect of a wish…are what wishes are made of.  The conception, the idea, the notion of a wish, or the way that a wish appears, seems the answer to that first wishful blow of a dandelion. It seems to be the answer to all the questions that drive you to make that very wish.

Would my life be better if I had this?

Would my life be better if I did this?

Would my life be better if I was this?

Would my life be better if I wished for this?

Stars aligned at 11:11, my birthday comes and goes and I blow the candles out, I have dried the turkey wishbone to pull it the next day, and once upon a lifetime I threw a coin in the Trevi fountain.

Truth be told, I have wished. I stood as a little girl looking up at shooting stars and I probably wished for a pony.

I drive my car filled of kids and I see 11:11 and wish that I am not the last parent to the party.

I wish the boys in my house would put the toilet seat down.

I wish the little dog would stop running away and we as a family did not have to run through the neighborhood trying to find her.

I wish there was no girl drama among the Muppets.

I wish the boy would learn to use his phone to call his mother.

I wish I had a vanilla milkshake and did not have to run off the calories.

I wish the little dog would stop humping the big dog.

I wish the house was not filled with all the children’s clutter.

I wish the children would clean their rooms.

I wish the mice would go away.

I am going to puff out my cheeks and I am going to blow on the dandelion and as I do, I wish that the genie who granted me more wishes granted me only one repetitive wish, that all the things that bother me today would never disappear.

I wish that my life, as hard as some days may seem, allows me to live and love within every moment of every day.

Although I ‘would like’  to find a cat that enjoys the hunt, because I  ‘would like’  the mice to go away.

“He wasted his wishes on wishing.”

Shel Silverstein,

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