Wish Upon a Star (bp coyle)

A middle aged man should not make wishes on pieces of space detritus burning up in Earth’s atmosphere. On shooting stars. On meteorites. A middle aged man should know much better than that. Yet still I religiously watch the skies on every clear night hoping to catch a glimpse of one out of the corner of my eye.

I do not wish for big things . Not for riches. Not for success. Not for true love. They are a young man’s dreams. Dreams that are long in my past.

These days I wish for small things. For the bus to be on time, for traffic to be light. For work not to be hell tomorrow. For the lunch special to be burgers and certainly not pasta.

For my wife to be have one of her good days, a thing that happens less and less. For the kids not to be in trouble at school. For them to go an hour without fighting with each other.

I still wish on shooting starts because I still believe. Dreams really can come true. Not the big ones. The tiny ones.

Dreams can come true sometimes, if you dream small enough.

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