I found a wishing tree in the park yesterday.
My roommate and I stumbled upon this tree across the bridge from Millennium Park in Chicago, after a little picnic to appreciate the lovely weather. Tied to the branches of this beautiful flowering tree were these white tags fluttering in the wind. After reading a few of them, I realized they were all wishes.
A few wished for fame and riches, and several had the grammar and spelling that suggested a child had written them. One read, “I wish I was more decisive.” Some were in Spanish. On another man had written a wish that a particular woman would love him and “have my babies.”
I took a few pictures I dug a pen out of my purse and handed it to my roommate and told her to make a wish, there was space on some of the cards. As I was taking some pictures, she finished writing her wish and handed me the pen.
Wait. I had to make a wish now?!?
Here’s the thing. I’m a bad wisher. I love throwing pennies in fountains, watching for shooting stars, and blowing out birthday candles. But once the penny is in my hand, the star is passing, or the cake is in front of me, I can’t think of a sinlge thing I want to wish for.
I can normally make up my mind quite easily, I’m generally know what I want. Finally, I decided not to over-think this one. I wrote a wish, born out of my longing for the quiet and forests where I grew up in Massachusetts.
“I wish there were more trees in Chicago.”
ShanShanigans 