Wednesday, June 12, 2013

The Wooden Wishing Well

     I was skimming through one of my notebooks from last year and came across something I had started writing and never finished. And since it was midnight and my insomnia was keeping me up...I decided to finish it.

The Wooden Wishing Well
At the end of the path now overgrown with weeds
I stood at the edge of an old wooden wishing well
Ready to drop a coin down and make a wish for a new car I wanted
I looked down and, though dark and far off, somehow I saw the bottom
Only small puddles of water remained
Twisted vines crawled up the cracked sides
But in those puddles of water, I saw hundreds of shiny relfections
Some of the wishes took the form of dimes, others of pennies 
Some of the wishes even took the form of coins from another country
I thought to myself 'What if I could read those wishes?'
Then I found myself falling
Down into the wooden wishing well
Once I hit the bottom no pain did I feel
Inside I felt a sense of awe as each wish sparkled up at me
I bent and picked up a penny and felt my eyes widen
For clearly, without explanation, I knew this penny's wish
The wish had been made by a girl, no older than seven
Wishing for a new pink dress with ruffles for her doll
I picked up another wish, this one in the form of a silver dollar
A wish for a new bike 
Amazed, I continued to pick through the wishes
Some made me laugh
Like the wish of the little boy who wished he could be a real superhero so the girl next door would like him
Some made me cry
Like the grandpa who wished his grandson would beat his battle for cancer
If even just long enough to make it to his next birthday
A wish for a pony
a wish for her mother to come back home
A wish for a new job
A wish for the pain to go away
But no matter the wish
Each one was different
Unique to that person who wished it
And with each wish
I found myself realizing all the more clearly
That each life
Though so different from the other
Was imporant
Meant something
The pile of a wishes around me
Had become much more than a pile of wishes
They had become lives
Then I once again found myself standing above the wishing well
Staring down
I walked back down the path
Not looking back
I felt burdened with that thought that every life
Every person I passed on the street
They weren't just a another face
They had wishes
I suddenly wanted to be part of all their lives
To show them that they were important in their own way
I never went back to the
wishing well
But I never forgot what I learned
It is easy to get wrapped up in our own desires
To think little of the lives or others
To view them as just another face with a wish
But they are so much more
They are a life
And some of those lives
I have the chance to impact
To show them I care
And maybe even answer one of their wishes
That is what I learned
at the wooden wishing well

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