As a child I plucked every dandelion I saw, I would earnestly close my eyes, purse my lips and blow the delicate weed, scattering pieces on the wind as I threw my wish out, into the universe. I didn’t just hope my wish would come true, I fervently believed there was magic in my wishes. Possessing a naturally optimistic nature, I also believed that my wishes would come true. Of course, deep down I felt that only the unselfish wishes of the good would ever be granted. So in my childish, little heart I felt that there was a magic in being good, and that only the kind and gentle hearted had any real chance at wishes being granted.
Growing up I made sure that none of my wishes were wasted. I wished for my uncle to survive leukaemia, I wished for sick family members to get well, I wished for the lives of the people I loved to be safe and happy, and I wished for lost puppies to find their way home. Many of my altruistic wishes were granted, so I kept on wishing. I wished on every shooting star, I wished every time I blew out a candle on my birthday cake, and when I was older my wishes morphed into prayer.
I was always a believer, I believed in everything. Unicorns, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the kindness of strangers and a higher power. I realized as I grew up and learned more about religion and faith that my wishes were a childish attempt at prayer, and that all of my wishes were in reality, hope.
I will always have a hopeful optimistic nature, I will always believe in the power of the universe, a higher power, call it what you will. The glow of hope kept me warm when I have been lost and alone. Hope gave me the strength to fight for my life during illness and hope gave me the courage to take risks and find love. While children wish on stars and dream of magic, grown-ups translate the wishes of their heart into hope.