Someone asked me . . .

A friend of mine asked me (twice) if I could have just one wish, one wish for me, what would it be?

I feel lost in not knowing the answer.

I can't wish for the coughing to stop or the lungs to clear, because they're not my coughs, not my lungs.

I can't waste the wish on a career, right? Although wouldn't it be fun to be somewhere learning/teaching/experiencing advanced story? And a book? That already feels like a quiet possibility. Maybe.

I certainly can't use my wish to travel back in time and do it all over again with this "better" perspective age has granted me, because I don't want to do it all over. Any of it.

And I can't wish for losses to be filled when I've given up or forgotten how to feel their loss. (I think.)

What about a small farm? I'd like that. Just plants, crops, farmhouse, me. (No animals, except maybe the dog. And a cat. Maybe.) But you can't use up a wish on that.

"What happens to a dream deferred?" Langston Hughes asks, and then he runs through the possibilities: does it "dry up"? (and there's a reason this one is placed before the next one) "fester"? "crust and sugar over"? "Or does it explode?" (I've always liked that last line the best.)

I should wish for a shift in perspective, maybe?
I should wish for confidence? Intelligence? Success? (But whose version of success would I follow, and if I went with my own, wouldn't I just end up being this same version of myself that I am anyway?)

I'm more clear about what I want for others. My wishes for them include happiness, the ability to see and reach their greatest most beautiful potential, the ability to feel the excitement and importance of their dreams. I wish them all that they need, and more, along with the respect for and respect of others. I wish them love, both to love freely and to be loved. To connect with people in meaningful ways.

But for me and that one elusive wish . . .
I simply do not know.