Sunday, June 25, 2006

make a wish

the lights went off, the singing started and two trays of cupcakes with far too many candles approached. Someone yelled "make a wish" as I closed my eyes, sucked in as much air as my asthmatic lungs would allow and blew as hard as I could across the first tray of far too spaced out candles as another onlooker advised me against spitting on the cupcakes. . . I ran out of air. There had to be nearly 40 candles and I maybe got 20 in one puff. Maybe the rule should be you are only the age of the number of candles you can blow out on the first attempt. Maybe I hit 25.

My failure to extinguish 31 candles (plus the others that were for "good luck") in a single blow means my wish won't come true. But what happens if I got caught up in the moment and forgot to make a wish? I know what the wish would have been, what it should have been and what it always is. It is the same wish I trot out upon seeing a single star twinkling in the sky, the first star I see at night - when I manage to look up past the neon lights, past the skyscrapers and find a little strip of sky with a star (not a plane) strong enough to stare back. It is the same wish I repeat without thought when I read some silly email forward that promises me my wish will come true if I just answer their very serious questions honestly and pass the email to my 20 closest friends. The same wish that creeps to the forefront of my mind and tugs at my heart, unnecessarily reminding me it is still there even when I don't have so much as a wayward eyelash to wish upon. Waiting. Hoping one day to move out of the closed-off, heavily guarded area at the back of my mind reserved for secret hopes and fantastic dreams to settle into the open forefront where sunshine and laughter will welcome the wish into reality.

I just failed to think it. I forgot to make my worn-out wish.

So maybe my failure to take a moment to aritculate the tired, over used wish means this is the year it will come true because I forgot to spring it from the lock-box, dust it off and use another set of candles to help my wish along. Maybe a forgotten star is already working on the wish and it has slipped out of the box without my noticing.


I wore a new dress to church today. A fantastic 40s style brown and green dress with ridiculously high heels that required a spare set of flip-flops in my purse. I felt amazing. I received compliments on the dress, the party and was told happy birthday several times. My confidence was high.

As I was sitting listlessly in Sunday School with only half an ear to the teacher, the other listening to my own internal dialogue, I saw him walk into the room. Ours eyes met, I glanced down. The rest of class I was distracted as I tried to sneak peeks across the large room to see if I could surreptitiously examine his (and this is no exageration) chisled face in the light of day. Too many people in the way, heads constantly blocking his.

I last saw him at 2 am in my poorly-lit elevator as he was among the last to leave my party. Of course I noticed him then too but it was dark, there were others he seemed to possibly be interested in. Or was he? We did exchange some saucy comments not necessarily repeatable in sunday school. I did tell a group (of which he was a part) I once told my mother I would start having sex when I turned 30 (I didn't mention the AGAIN part). He played along. He has some spirit. I didn't hope for him. I assumed he was young, assumed he was taken, assumed he was temporary.

I walked into the chapel and he was sitting alone on a side bench. I started to sit one place and then resolutely walked to the other end of the chapel to talk to him. To be reminded of his name - Zach or Zack or Zac, I think I like Zach. We made small talk, then I selected my usual bench which happened to be close enough to examine him from behind but from the side, so more than just the back of his head. It happened too often to be dismissed. He was sitting against the wall so he was turned just enough to look at me. And he did. I caught him, several times. I needed to talk to him again.

Meanwhile, a friend entertained me with an article from the Ensign called "Dating: 'He Says,' 'She Says'". We laughed about it through much of the meeting. Helping singles, understanding singles and fixing singles seem to be the new hot topics on which to write these days in the Church. Some of my favorite "He Says" advice: "Guys need a solid hint," "a brush on the arm or a pat on the shoulder often catches men's attention." I know these things. I've used them before but it has been so long since I found a worthy target I may have forgotten. Lucky for me I had some encouraging looks throughout sacrament meeting and some reminder tips from the Ensign (although most of the article I find a bit ridiculous, especially what the girls have to say). I decided to encourage him, but I approached him once already, I couldn't do it again.

So I lingered . . . I talked to friends. Positioned myself. Made myself accessible. It worked. He approached me before he left and we talked some more. I discovered he is a graphic designer and is 27 (a respectable datable age). He also told me he liked my dress because it matches my eyes - I nearly swooned. I had the 3 inch heels on and he was still taller so he must be 6'1'' or 2". I managed to touch him on the arm at one point and maybe tugged at his tie, it is all a bit of a blur. There was a definite spark. Real, undeniable chemistry.

The bad news, no numbers or emails were exchanged. I will be out of town next Sunday so I have no idea when or how I will find him again. He is in temporary housing and may not be in the ward permanently. But I am counting on that spark to bring us back together. Best damn spark I've seen in ages!


Maybe unmade wishes can come true even if you don't blow out all the candles.


tiff said...

this sounds like the prologue of a great novel! keep it coming!

lizzie said...

wow--keep me posted!

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