Dandelions. That insufferable weed that ruins the finest lawns, forces it's way between sidewalk seamsand causes merriment in children everywhere. Do you remember what it's like to blow the seeds off of a puffy white dandelion ball?
No, seriously. Do you? The excitement when you see the flower? The careful way you have to pick it, so you don't disturb a single seed in that magical orb? Squeezing your eyes shut because, of course,
thats the way you make wishes, silly. Everyone knows wishes only work if you squeeze your eyes as
tight as you can and wish them with all your might! Then how deeply you have to breathe: apparently
it takes as much oxygen as would fuel a small camp fire to drive the tiny seeds from their dried up
Now, I'll ask again. . . do you remember what it's like to wish on a dandelion?
I've always thought dandelions were fascinating: as a girl, my favorite part was the way the seeds would spin away, like tiny fairies in ballerina's long diaphanous skirts. I loved the way my puff of breath would wisk them away. . . to the sky, the horizon, neverland.
When I got older and understood that my fairies were really tiny seed pods, and that they probably didn't fly further than my yard, they became no less beautiful to me. Think about it: my tiny breath would send a hundred seeds swirling into the air, coated in my wishes. They would land, somewhere new. Here they split apart, nestling into the soil like my toddler self nestled against my mother. The seeds, carried to their new home by my wish, would grow into a tender sprout and then blossom. . . only to die again in a few short weeks. The milky-white, orbital dandelion ghost quivers, between life and death, waiting for another chubby child's fingers to grab a hold and pull it up. . . another wish to send it spinning.
Today was a dandelion wish kind of day. I woke up super tired, with a few pages left of reading to get done. . . before my 8 am class. Sigh. But I knew today would be ok - it was going to be 73 degrees! At the end of September! In New England!
To make a long story short, today was full of good things. Passed exams. Job opportunities. . . learn-ing new things. And creativity. I was on my leg during pirouettes. I danced my heart out during
grande allegro. I was inspired and wrote a short story: I got an opportunity to have other writing published. And meet international dignitaries. And in rehearsal, I was sexy and fun and loving the Cabaret.
Each of these opportunities has been set free now. . . they're out there, spinning in the universe on the gust of wishes. Who knows which ones will find somewhere to root? Will grow and turn into something new?
What are your dandelion wishes, my friends? Whatever they are, I hope they come true.