We came by a wishing well recently, the coins inside the fountain a donation for a local children’s hospital. The same hospital whose doors a very sick Jedi was wheeled through upon being diagnosed as type 1 diabetic. He spent 5 days under its care in the PICU wing, the first few of which were the scariest days of my life thus far.
But they made him better. They brought him back. From that grey, dry-mouthed, sunken shell of himself then to the boy I knew and have before me again now.
So as we passed, I wanted to be sure to acknowledge the meaning. I peered into the shimmering surface, noticing the many pennies and loose change scattered on the bottom, and began to dig through my purse. There wasn’t much, but I collected what I could and handed it to Jedi.
“Throw this in and make a wish”, I told him. It was a small amount, dismal for what they do, but it was the thought that accompanied and a vow to go larger when I can. Though no amount ever enough for taking care of my son.
Jedi, however, spoke in riches.
Without an ounce of selfishness, he stepped up to the well. As he tossed in his coin he spoke loudly above the bustle nearby, openly, “I wish for no more sickness”. Not for himself, he later said, but it was for those kids there now, in the same hospital he once was.
If ever there was a wish that should come true.