Paper Wishes

As ferocious wind gusts continued to ravage the area these past two days (my bedroom window was powerless against its beastliness—I woke up encased in ice practically), I couldn't help but think back to something I always did as a child. I forget where I first heard about it (probably on Nickelodeon), but I remember learning about a Japanese tradition in which people would write down their wishes on pieces of paper and then tie them loosely to tree branches with the hope that winds would carry them away and in effect cause them to turn true. I could be grossly manipulating this idea in my head, but that’s the way I interpreted it back then at least. (Tanabata seems to be what I'm butchering.)

I became obsessed with this idea the same way people gamble with the lottery. But I quickly realized that it was almost as improbable as randomly selecting arbitrary numbers. Setbacks plagued my wishes from being granted. I’d wake up in the morning and sadly see that the paper was still tied to the tree. Or I’d find it in the mud a few feet away. Determined as ever, I decided I must have been choosing the wrong weather days. I had to wait for stronger winds. So I did, and when that failed I caved and accepted my fate. I wouldn’t get the new toy I wanted. My brother wouldn’t stop beating me up. My dog that ran away wasn’t coming back.

I’m gullible. I’ll believe in almost anything, place my faith in everything, and put all my chips in if I sincerely think that something will work out. It took me longer than I’d like to admit, to recognize that my paper dreams weren’t a plausible solution to what I wanted. I was too young to know how much work, dedication, and elbow grease were needed to make things happen. A healthy portion of faith is necessary, but not absolute.

Paper and trees aside, a lot of my dreams are coming true lately. And it’s nice because up until recently my life felt too stagnant to be healthy. I like routine, but it’s as if I’d used up all the fun left in me.

So many things are working out for me that my next question is always “What’s the catch?” That’s the pessimist surfacing in me, but I think it’s natural for people to feel that way. However, I will say that those feelings are fleeting. And that’s what gives me hope for the future. Place a check next to another thing I’ll believe in.

I’m somehow lucky enough to have the affection of someone like Nick, a one-in-a-million chance that I never thought I'd get. I’ve fallen into one of the most supportive networks I’ve ever had thanks to my friends. And every now and then the future seems secure, that, who knows, maybe I will land a legitimate job to pay off my college debt so I don’t have to resort to less glamorous means of moneymaking. (I ruled out a business in paperweights when I was six and found out my mother had been throwing them away as I gave them to her.)

And then there’s this, one of the most exciting things to happen to my poetry:

“Dear Brett,

It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been selected to attend the Bucknell Seminar for Younger Poets, 2008. Congratulations! The fellowship you have been awarded covers the expense of tuition and accommodations, including housing and meals.

Dates for the 2008 Seminar are Sunday, June 8, through Sunday, June 29.”

One of those paper wishes must have been carried away far enough to make all of this real.