One Dandelion Wish

I am not the most perceptive person in the world. Plenty of life has passed by me without my understanding or appreciating what a specific moment offered at that exact time. Sometimes, that realization came one moment too late which is one moment past when it may have made some type of lasting difference.

As I have grown older though the voices from the past seasoned from time and experience become clearer through the fog and haze of everyday life. Those voices, many long removed from today, seem to speaker louder with each passing day.

I hear those whispers of wisdom.
Enjoy each moment.
Count time spent with loved ones as special because those moments and the ones you love and who love you really truly are just that, special.
You will miss this.

Those voices ring truer when I look at Hannah. I visualize a timeline from when I first held her to this very morning when she hugged me before she left with her mom headed to school.

Insert your favorite clichés here.
Time flies.
They grow up way too fast.
Where is the time going?

It is obvious special moments can be savored but not necessarily saved. A body can try though.

I am writing this one day after Hannah and I spent some together. Jennifer had a meeting she needed to attend which meant for a few hours Hannah and I were on our own.

With a day’s planning, Hannah determined she wanted to go to a nearby park after school then she wanted to eat pizza for supper. When I picked her up from school, I asked her if she still wanted to go to the park. She did. She even whispered to me she had not told anyone during the day about the trip to the park. I offered her the option of two different parks. She chose the one I knew she would and probably not the one I would have chosen on this day. It was a bit out of the way from home but I decided on this day that didn’t really matter.

We buckled up in the car beginning our journey. The afternoon traffic was heavy but the day was still sunny and bright. The temperature was warmer than usual for the day. As we traveled I glanced in the rear view mirror only to notice Hannah had fallen asleep. Before long we arrived at our destination with the sleepy little girl waking up as if on cue.

Once out of the car, we began making our way down a walkway to a playground area. Hannah’s right hand latched onto my left hand. A few steps into this walk, I felt her hand pull away from mine. I walked ahead a few more steps before stopping to look back. Hannah had stopped to pick a dandelion from the ground. She declared she was going to make a wish then began blowing the seeds away into the wind. When she finished she placed her hand back in mine so we could continue to walk to our destination. Then she announced she was going to tell me about her wish. Before she did though she decided against that because she wanted what she wished to come true, and, as she informed me if you tell a wish it won’t come true.

We reached the playground discovering we had the whole place to us. We hit the swings, the monkey bars and the slides. We even played a game of hide-and-seek. Frankly, the sunlight and it’s heat wore me down quickly. I tried to not let it get to me as I could tell Hannah was enjoying herself. After about forty-five minutes though we both were ready to escape the heat and find supper. We piled into the car, turned up the air conditioner then made our way to one of our favorite pizza joints.

We placed our orders, including a take-out box for Jennifer, visiting with one another until our food arrived. Hannah became interested watching a family at a near-by table eat together. A couple had a child perhaps two or three years old. The child ate spaghetti and pizza. The mom loudly commented on every little move the child made while the father quietly sat by. Across the table, a set of grandparents sat soaking in every moment. I glanced over a time or two trying to not be too conspicuous only to note the large amount of food on the floor that the child had dropped. I chuckled to myself remembering times when we, with a much younger Hannah, would leave a restaurant in similar shape. Hannah watched this group so intently I had to tell her three or four times to not stare at them. She would deny staring at them long enough for the words to escape her mouth before her eyes would turn from me back to that table of five.

Food would come to our rescue. My salad arrived first. As I began to mix it together, Hannah’s small hand reached into the bowl to pull out some shredded cheese. Then, for the next few minutes, she kept up with me almost bite-for-bite with something we could not get her to eat at home on any other given night. In time, our pizza slices arrived. Hannah sprinkled parmesan on her slices before digging in to her supper. I followed suit.

Before long, we were stuffed. I asked for a take-out box and the check. Our server brought us both, along with Jennifer’s box. We gathered it all together, paid the bill then right behind the family of five left the restaurant to head home.

On the drive, Hannah talked. She asked questions. She provided her opinion on matters. She told me about activities at her school.

Then, she asked if I wanted to know what she had wished for when we first arrived at the park. I told her I did want to know but only if she really wanted to tell me. She said she did. Then she told me she had wished for the best day ever.

I paused for a couple of seconds before I asked her, “Well, did that wish come true?”

Her reply was music to my ears and a symphony of indescribable magnitude to my heart, “Yes.”

Now a day later, I swish all that around in my heart and savor it hoping it lasts and lasts and lasts.

What you read here is my feeble attempt to save it in some way for some time when me, Hannah or her Mom might need it, for some day when times are hard, harsh or hurtful or for the times when best-day-ever moments are much harder to perceive. No, remembering it won’t quite be the same. Still, maybe sometime, someday, it will mean something when a pick-me-up is needed.

Hopefully, this best day ever will even be replaced by other best days ever. For that I can only wish and wait and hope to recognize it when it happens. Until then I have stored this one away knowing I can pull it out when I'll need it.

So, here's hoping for more dandelions along life's walk, for more pure sincere hearts of precious children and for more wise voices who speak at just the right time to identify and hold close to the moments we all wish for, and sometimes receive.