There’s a windowsill in my kitchen. It’s the one above my sink. The one where I keep the knickknacks, the trinkets, the plant that I always forget to water, the clay creations my children have given me over the years, and the wishbones from meals past.
It’s not that I’m a hoarder of wishes, it’s just that I’m forgetful. I put them up there to dry out and forget all about them- even though they’re right there ... in front of my face several times a day when I’m standing at the sink.
This weekend though for some reason I noticed them - and I decided I needed a wish. I called my 12 year old son into the kitchen and explained how the magic of the wishbone worked.
"We each think of a wish," I explained. "But only silently. Then you concentrate on that wish real hard so that the magic of the wish makes its way to the top of the bone - into that flat pointy part. Then we each grab an end and pull. Whoever winds up with the top gets their wish!"
After looking at me like I was nuts, he agreed to play along.
But what would I wish for? What does one wish for when given the opportunity for a single grand wish?
Do you go for something for yourself? For a family member? For a loved one? For a friend? For the world? Do you wish for success? Wealth? Love? Health? Healing? Peace? Someone to clean your house? There were so many options!
"Hurry up, Mom!"
Right. I decided on a wish. And no I can’t tell you! That goes against all wish making rules.
My son and I got into position, each grasping tight to our ends. We gave the ultimate countdown ...
5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1
That old dried up turkey wishbone split into three pieces. My piece, my son's piece, and the pointy flat piece in the middle. The one with our wishes. My son and I watched as the piece with our wishes flew up to the ceiling, hit the light fixture, and slid across the floor, nearly missing the black hole known as "under the stove."
A sure sign both of our wishes will come true.