“Be careful what you wish for” read the sign beside the little well of pale brick with an old wooden roof, surrounded by a path of dirt and pebbles. I came in spring, young and full of life, I did not heed the sign and wished for happiness.
I found happiness wrapped in a baby blanket, soft skin and a gentle touch. Sweet coo’s and caresses, wide eyed soon laughing and running too fast. Singing and talking, loving the water and sunshine and puppies and bugs. There it was for all to behold.
But I did not know that it came with anguish, and worry, frustration and aggravation. Long nights spent worrying about where and who and how and why. I did not know happiness would be so hard to hold close or even to recall in the most desperate of moments.
“Be careful what you wish for” read the sign beside the little well of pale brick with an old wooden roof, surrounded by a path of dirt and pebbles. More thoughtful in the autumn I believed this time I had come with a more carefully thought out request and so I wished again, this time for joy.
Joy came as happiness had come wrapped in a baby blanket, soft skin and a gentle touch. Always moving, looking seeing, running, laughing, never sleeping. But I did not know that sweet joy came with anxious fear of separation and the changing of circumstance and location. Joy brought with it loneliness and isolation.
“Be careful what you wish for” read the sign beside the little well of pale brick with an old wooden roof, surrounded by a path of dirt and pebbles. In the winter things were quieter here and though I had come to wish for peace, I stopped beside the little well, thought better of it and walked away. Perhaps it is best not to discover what that wish would come with.
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