The Wishing Tree

He wanted to go to the Science Centre, he said. So we went.

He played with light and did experiments with air and built things with colourful pieces made from all kinds of things.

I read wishes.

The papers were green that time. They hang from string all over the wishing tree, and if you stand here and duck there and peer through you can immerse yourself in wishes.

Some are simple, yet wise beyond the years of those who wrote them.

I wish to be joyful always.

Some are fanciful.

I wish to be Mario to save Peach.

Some made me wonder. (Why can’t you?)

I wish I could see butterflies in the sky.

Some are grandiose. All-encompassing. World-changing.

I wish for all children to be happy, carefree and well-educated.

Some aren’t.

I wish Pokemon were real.

For some I’d wave my wand and grant them right now. If only I had one.

I wish I will live long enough to see my grandkids grow up.

Sometimes the things we wish for are simple.

My wish is to have a pogostick.

Sometimes they’re simply beautiful.

I wish for everyone to be kind.

Some wishes seem to be connected to each other.

I wish I can skate/I wish my knees would stop hurting.

And some connect us to everyone.

World of peace/a journey to the first star I see.

What would you wish for?