Dandelion Wishes

She lived her life on dandelion wishes.
It worked sometimes,
when others did dishes.
or was it a star wish granted?
Or that penny put in a shoe and spun around three times,
Or was it the salt tossed over her left shoulder?
Luck was chased everywhere, especially in clover.

The following is me explaining it.



The lonely child dried her eyes and sighed. Her mother’s words, “Go outside! Go on, get OUT of here!”, rang in her head like a church bell ringing repeatedly. The words hurt her because she never felt wanted. Others teased her and said she should go eat worms. Her dad never called her anything except, “Skinker”.

The healing rays of the morning sun embraced her. The birds sang in a chorus, a melody blending with the chirping of insects, buzzing of bees, fluttering of winged creatures, and calling of squirrels, awakening a sense of hope within her burdened heart.

Tenderly, she plucked the juicy straw of a stem of a once golden dandelion blossom, now a feathery white globe, and held it up and investigated it thoroughly. There was luck waiting for her IF she could blow every feather off with a single blow. She knew her wish this time, without having to think about it. Today, she only wanted her mother to be happy. Last week, her wishes were about avoiding the drudged chore of doing dishes. She always did them, but they had company coming and she didn’t want to do so many. To her surprise, she didn’t have to, and she was happy to be sent to her room instead.

She took the deepest breath possible and blew at the puffy white globe while pulling it closer and twisting it to reach the stubborn ones on the far side of the flowerhead. 99% of the bumpy white top was clean but not all of it. She would have to find another way to help her mother. Then she remembered she WAS helping by staying away from her. A warm tear ran down her face. She would find another and try again because she lived her life on dandelion wishes and any other way to get lucky.

Luck had to be the missing element in her life. She thought about it often. She was one of many of her grandmother’s kids, but, as far as she could tell, she was the unluckiest of them all. Her father had taken her brother and all the furniture and left without a word. All that night her mother rocked her and prayed feverishly that her dad wouldn’t kill them. Then she collapsed sleeping for days, forgetting the child. If she were lucky her mother would get better.