I wish I had a sewing machine. And a deer skull. And money.
I made a list of wishes the night of the solstice, a wish per slip of paper and crumpled them up. None of the wishes were for the things listed above, which I didn’t think to put on my list. But there my wishes were, those other wishes, crumpled and I took them out on the night of the eclipse and I threw them in the creek. Except that the wind caught them and they all blew up on the side of the creek.
And I considered reaching down and pushing them into the water.
And then I realized two things. 1. This must be why they tell you to toss over your shoulder and not look back. 2. If having your wished blow back at you isn’t a lot like life in general, I don’t know what is.