Wishes

I know it's cold way up in the sky. Up high, where the airplanes fly is what I mean. But when the sun is shining outside your window and it's a beautiful day it's not something one immediately thinks of. Especially, when one is flying to Southern California.

On our flight from Seattle to Palm Springs I had the window seat and as I looked out I noticed there were snowflakes attached to my window. Not many, just a few. They were tiny, almost like they weren't there. It was amazing to me that something so tiny could cling to something so much larger, something that was traveling over 500 miles per hour.

I started to think of them as wishes. Tiny, against all odds, and all that. Were they my wishes or someone else's? Would these wishes be granted? What if I had an aisle seat?

I looked out my window from time to time to keep an eye on them, to see if they were still there or if they flew away. Even as we descended, they remained. But as we neared the airport, they disappeared. I didn't see them go, I missed it. I didn't know if they blew away or simply melted.

Did someone get her wish when those snowflakes disappeared or had they expired, unused? We'll never know.

If they were mine, what would I have wished? It doesn't matter, I think, because what I would wish for today is different from what I would wish for tomorrow and what I wished for yesterday. Maybe that's why snowflakes, on their own, are temporary.