She placed the freshly-picked flowers in a glass vase and said, “I almost don't want to talk about the things I wish for because I'm afraid they won't come true, you know?”
In that moment I desperately needed her to be speaking of us.
“I didn't take you for a superstitious person,” I said with a smile, more teasing than anything else, trying to ignore the ache I felt in my heart.
“I'm not really superstitious,” she said, “I just feel like whenever I really want something and let other people know it, I end up not getting it.”
And in that moment I realized there was something deeper being expressed in those words. This was the expression of a sense of loss, of unfulfilled and frustrated hope repeated again and again. I suddenly felt deeply honoured she'd shared this with me.
Before I could say anything her friend came in from outside. Our conversation returned to the mundane world of work.
The next day we came together in the same place. Our eyes met and we held each other's gaze for a time. I was the first to speak:
“I've been thinking about what you said yesterday, about how you feel that telling your wishes to others might mean they won't come true.”
I waited for her reaction to gauge whether to keep speaking or change the subject. She gently nodded and I continued.
“I just wanted to say…”
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