The Place Where Wishes Land

One of the last discussions i had with Hazakyah was about a wish I would make if I had a magical wish stone. He told me to hold onto my wish stone because everything I needed was already in reach. These are the words I wish I could say to him now as i am replaying our times together. So many of our discussions wound up in my writings. Who will be my muse now?

~ms kimberly

A wish is a curious thing.

It is not a plan, and it is not a promise. It carries no guarantee of arrival. A wish is simply a small offering of hope cast into the unknown—a seed released to the wind, trusting that somewhere, somehow, it may find a place to land.

As children, we wished without hesitation. We wished on stars, birthday candles, and the first snowflakes of winter. We wished because the act itself felt magical. We wished because possibility was enough.

Life teaches us that not every wish comes true.

Some wishes remain suspended in the space between what was hoped for and what came to be. Some are carried away before they ever touch the ground. And some become especially tender when they were woven together with someone we loved.

In times of loss, wishes can feel bittersweet. We find ourselves wishing for one more conversation, one more night under the stars, one more walk, one more chance to say the things that now live only in our hearts. These wishes cannot change what has happened. They cannot return what has been lost.

Yet they still matter.

A wish does not need to come true to have value. Sometimes its purpose is simply to carry us through a difficult moment. It gives shape to longing. It keeps a small light burning when the path ahead feels uncertain. It reminds us that the heart continues to reach toward life, even when it is broken.

Perhaps that is the quiet gift of wishing.

Not that it guarantees an outcome, but that it helps us hold hope and grief in the same hand. It allows us to honour what might have been while continuing to walk toward what still may be.

And so we make our wishes.

Not because we know they will come true, but because there is something deeply human in releasing them into the wind and watching them fly.

For a moment, they lift us too.

At Metamorphosis, we are learning that not all wishes become reality. Some remain as gentle companions on the journey, helping us find our way through sorrow, toward healing, and eventually, toward whatever comes next.