Sometimes it seems that we never get what we want, or what we think we want, doesn't it? We wish for money, or a pony (in my case, I'm still waiting for that pony...), or any number of things. But then, when we finally get something we wished for, we don't even realize it for the longest time.
Just recently, my husband and I were quibbling about the weather. We had an unusually long winter here in Minnesota, and by May, Tim was more than ready for some heat and sunshine. I had to admit I was weary of being cold all of the time, but I don't mind the winters like he does. When summer finally did arrive, Tim was delighted when the mercury climbed to ninety and the humidity poured in, which wasn't very often. As August passed, he harrumped that we had had very few days that were warm enough to swim. All the while, I was wishing for autumn. I come alive in the cool, crisp weather, and when its hot outside, I'll curl up with the air conditioning, thank you very much. During the last week of August, we traveled to the North Shore, where it was deliciously cool and fall-like. I was in heaven! Upon arriving back home, the real summertime returned, and how: the temps soared into the nineties and it was as muggy as Florida. And then, just in time for the first day of school, the temperature plummeted about 25 degrees in one day. We went from summer to fall in a matter of hours, and its been cool ever since. Just today, I realized, I'd gotten my wish.
Earlier this summer, our cat was accidentally let out of the house. I didn't realize he was gone until he'd been gone for 24 hours, and then I was desperate. He's old and ornery, and he's never forgiven us for allowing his brother to die three years ago. And boy is he vocal about it! He yowls day in and day out. Not the cute little kitten mews that some adult cats have, but a "What the heck have you DONE to me??!" yowl. He makes me insane some days, and I (I hate to admit this) found myself thinking, well, he'll be gone soon. Then he got out of the house and he truly was gone. I had gotten my wish, and how horrible it was. I searched the neighborhood, convinced that he'd been injured in a fight with a bullying tomcat. I finally had to tell our son that the cat had gone on an adventure, and he might not come home. Then, that evening, after three days of liberty, he came home without a scratch on him. He's still yowling and still making me crazy, but I'm a wee bit more tolerant of it now. It wasn't his time to go. I'd gotten my wish, and then had another promptly granted. Creepy.
Do we recognize these things when they are so seemingly mundane? How hard we wish on those evening stars when we're young. How fervently we wish for a windfall, or a cure, or a job, or a new car. But when our small wishes are granted, are they any less magical? Only if we don't pay attention.
