Sometimes, when I’m leaving my parking space at the end of the work day, I see the Whirling Dervishes walking down the alley.
It sounds more exotic than it is. I park next to an apartment building and there are at least two guys who live there who work at what I can only assume is a Mediterranean restaurant of some sort. Blue shirt, puffy black pants tucked into boots. I’m certain the correct terminology for their outfits isn’t even Whirling Dervishes, but that’s what I’ve named them. Sometimes there are two walking together, sometimes only one. Sometimes I don’t see them for days on end, then two days in a row they’re there.
I take my fun and my wishes where I can find them, and for some reason, the Whirling Dervishes always make me smile. Like if I’m seeing them, it’s a lucky night or a safe night or a night full of possibilities.
Seeing the Whirling Dervishes is like finding the Indian and the star on the Tootsie Pop wrapper. I was explaining this to a group of people at a party the other night, and apparently, I’m one of the chosen few who learned this as a child. When you unwrap your Tootsie Pop, spread out the wrapper and look for the Indian with his bow and arrow. He’s shooting at a star, and if you get the whole Indian and the star on your wrapper, you get to make a wish.
I also make my husband pull wishbones with me, I never pass up the opportunity to hop to Sky Blue on a hopscotch board, I wait until the clasp of my necklace slides to front and center before twisting it back and making a wish at the same time, and I always sing Happy Birthday and make a wish when I happen to glance at the digital clock and it says “10:21” (my birthday). I’m not superstitious—I do step on cracks and I never forward chain e-mails, despite the many death threats that accompany them.
I’ve said this a million times before so I’m sure I’ve written it here, but when asked if the glass is half empty or half full, I always respond that somebody drank my half. I guess my little good luck charms and wishes are my way of compensating for that crappy attitude.
So what does this all have to do with diabetes? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I did these things before diagnosis and I do them now. I suppose I could add a new trick: Whenever I find a used test strip in an odd place, I can make a wish. But then I’d be creating the source of the wishing possibilities and that doesn’t seem right. (Plus, I might even become tired of wishing, given how many of those strips I find in so many different places so often.)
I guess my point is that I don’t have a point. I just have a few wishes.
As always, more to come…