Like most kinds of wishing, weather wishing is perfectly pointless. You can't wish the sun to come out. It comes when it's ready. You can't wish to be thin. You have to stop eating carbs. (Ugh.) Nonetheless, I find myself weather wishing alot lately. And as I do so, I plan out the days I'd enjoy if the weather were better. I smile wryly at my own dream of creating a garden of wild flowers and tall grasses, knowing full well that my very presence near things that bloom causes mass destruction on a scale known only to monsoon survivors and those vapid little mites eating the tree in my backyard. I fantasize about days at the beach, squishing sand and water between my toes. I wash away my worries imagining all the fun I'd have playing in a pool with my children. And so the wishing itself makes me happy, even though it does absolutely nothing to bring the sun about. Then back to reality. But for a while, however slim, it was so grand to have a wish.
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