kiwords

The most incredible thing happened the other day. I was at a restaurant with my kids and my cousin’s kids, and I gave all of them coins to toss in a fountain. They took turns aiming for the highest bowl of the fountain, and after admiring each other’s shots, they wandered away in a noisy bunch. All except Raphael, who bellied up to the fountain to see if there was any hope for a quick swim before dinner.
Tre ambled over to me and said casually, “Do you know what I wished for? When I threw my coin?”
I paused, remembering.
In the months after his dad left, every opportunity for wishing had the same result. Tre would squeeze his eyes tight shut and wish so hard on every birthday candle, shooting star, wishbone, eyelash on the cheek, coin in the fountain. And then when he was done, and a few minutes had passed, he would find me. He’d slip his hand in mine (he was so little then), and say, “Do you know what I wished for?”
And I’d say yes, because it was always the same thing.
“That Daddy would come back,” he’d confirm. I’d nod, helpless.
Every wish, the same thing. It got to where he’d fix his eyes on the item that was supposed to grant his wish, and then find my eyes. Do you know? he’d mouth, and I’d nod, my heart breaking with him.
But this time? When he walked over to me, too big by far to slip his hand in mine, he looked at me with unclouded eyes.
“I wished that I could have a hundred dollar gift certificate to Borders!”
I nodded back, and turned to hide tears of a different sort.
“I wish you could have that too, Honey,” I said. So, so grateful.