I made a wish tonight.
The sun was just starting to go down, the air was cool, and so I laced up my sneakers and Moo and I headed out to the trails near my house. As we followed the path, winding around trees, along a bridge over a stream, I practiced my deep breathing. Deep inhales and long exhales. And as we walked, the woods grew thicker and the houses disappeared as we went deeper and deeper into the forest. Then suddenly, we were in a small grove of tall trees, a little open pocket in the dense woods.
I moved to Seattle three summers ago. Throughout that first summer, I felt so many things: exhilarated by my boldness in moving across the country, thrilled with the possibilities of my new city, and overwhelmingly homesick for what I left behind. So every night, I would leash up the Moo and we’d hit the sidewalk, walking from Wallingford to Fremont to Queen Anne and back again. On these walks, I sorted out my emotions and found my words. Sometimes there were tears. Sometimes I couldn’t stop grinning. And always, I would breathe deeply and take in the fresh, clean, green scent and memorize the sights, sounds, and smell of my new world.
Tonight, when I found that small grove in the forest, that green scent invaded my senses and I was hit with an intense feeling of deja vu. Everything I felt three years ago came rushing back and, overwhelmed, I sat and marveled at all that has happened since. I felt overwhelmingly proud of my past self for taking this risk, being this bold, and pushing forward even when things were difficult. I felt no sadness; on the contrary, I experienced a sweet moment of love for myself for being brave.
As I sat in the shade of the trees around me, watching Moo explore our surroundings, I offered the Universe a small prayer of gratitude for the lessons I’ve learned and the growth I’ve experienced. Deep breath in . . . thank you . . . long exhale out. Over and over again.
The sky had begun to get dark, so I gathered myself and, whispering one final word of thanks, I stood up and called Moo back to my side. We turned and started home. As we followed the path, I noticed a cluster of dandelions and grabbed one, because when you see a cluster of dandelions, you must grab one and make a wish and blow. I closed my eyes super tight and concentrated and whispered, “I wish for Magic.” And that’s when I felt them, you guys. The Crackles. In that moment that was already perfect, I felt the promise of something to come. Something big. Something wonderful. My heart filled with joy and I actually giggled. Here’s the thing: I know my wish is going to come true. Because you know why?
So many other wishes already have.
Deep breath in . . . thank you . . . long exhale out.