Chasing Wishes
(with the persistence of a weed)
It’s Mother’s Day, and I am running on a path that smells like sweet earth and fresh rain. Everything is finally green here on the East coast in early May. The robins and blue jays’ dueling high notes are floating through the treetops, and I am looking for my blue heron buddy who creeps along the reservoir banks when he thinks no one’s watching.
I round the corner toward mile 2, and I’m greeted by a stretch about 6 feet long of bright yellow dandelion heads. Full and plump, they look so cheerful. Interspersed among them, however, are their wispy, delicate bretheren—dried and ready to float away at the slightest exhale. The pappus will spread far and wide, and maybe next year even more sunny little flower faces will pop up along my route.
Which got me thinking…
Dandelions are typically considered “weeds.” Abhorred by gardeners, landscapers, and pretentious homeowners alike, they are a bane on otherwise manicured lawns, sidewalks, patios…often popping up in cracks and crevices, under porches. Mowed down or sprayed in the face with harsh chemicals to keep them from growing back, time after time, year after year.
And yet…they persist.
To be honest, I’ve NEVER minded dandelions. In fact, if he could, my dad would often mow around them in our yard. And as a smaller kiddo, my son was obsessed with “blowing out” as many as he could gather, for the best chance of making his wishes come true.
How can we dislike anything so whimsical?
I’d like to be more like them, as I open a new chapter on my life. Cheerful, sturdy…persistent. A spreader of joy. A carrier of wishes. Someone who refuses to vanish, who only comes back stronger and brighter. Capable of reaching my goals and landing gently where I’m supposed to—not where anyone else thinks I should be.
I know what I deserve. And I’m going to earn it with the strength of a dandelion.
