“Star bright, star light, first star I see tonight …” I’m sure that you all know the rest of this poem. And no doubt after reciting it, you make a wish on that first star of the evening.
I know I do.
That is, when I can actually see a star. Living in Los Angeles among city lights, cars, buses and constant activity isn’t very conducive to starry nights. But every year I visit a resort in the mountains, a place with no electricity, no Wi-Fi, no traffic. When the sun sets, a million stars pop into the sky. It’s an explosion, leaving me breathless. Add to the equation a pool-size hot springs, good friends, and great wine and, well, there doesn’t seem much else to wish for.
But, like I said, I always do make a wish. So last summer as I floated on my back, gazing upward, I made a wish (not telling what) and tossed it into the universe.
Throughout the years, I’ve wished for everything from having the boy in the seat next to me notice that I was alive to wishing for a cure for cancer — with stops in between for finding an editor who loves my latest project, an anti-aging cream that really works, and an anonymous donor to get me out of debt. That night, drifting around beneath the moonlight, I came to the conclusion that some wishes aren’t really wishes at all.
Some of those things that we ask for from the Wish Fairy we actually have to make happen on our own.
By definition, a wish is a strong desire of wanting something to happen. Some of those things that we ask for from the Wish Fairy we actually have to make happen on our own.
You can’t simply wish for a better job. You have to put yourself out there.
You can’t wish to lose weight. You have to sweat and burn.
You can’t just wish for a happy marriage. It takes communication and, God knows, a lot of patience.
As the hot water seeped into my bones, I took it one step further. It seemed like some of the wishes I’ve made have gotten mixed up with someone else’s. I wished for a particular guy to ask me out, but he dated my friend instead. Another friend wished for lots of grandchildren. And I got that wish. My daughter wished for a puppy. And what shows up at our door? A mangy, stray cat. Certainly not my wish.
Maybe that’s just how life is supposed to go. If we got everything we wished for, we could turn into greedy, obnoxious people. It takes more than wishing for something to change. We need to be proactive, take hold of our lives and become the women we’re supposed to be.
But just to be on the safe side, for those things that I cannot change, I’ll keep on reciting: “Wish I may, wish I might, have this wish, I wish tonight.”
May all your wishes and dreams come true.