The Wish I Wouldn’t Spend

The genie grants you a wish. What is it?

If a genie appeared in front of me and said I could have one wish, I suspect I would disappoint him terribly.

Because I wouldn’t wish for money.

I wouldn’t wish for fame.

I wouldn’t even wish for eternal youth.

Good heavens, imagine having to explain your age forever.

I’d probably ask him one question first.

“Are there any rules?”

Because I’ve watched enough films to know that wishing without reading the small print is how people end up with monkeys’ paws, cursed jewellery, or three wishes that somehow go horribly wrong.

But suppose the genie assured me there were no tricks.

One wish.

Anything I wanted.

I’d wish for something rather impossible.

I’d wish that every person in the world could know, just once, what it feels like to be completely and unconditionally accepted.

Not admired.

Not applauded.

Not told they’re wonderful.

Just accepted.

Exactly as they are.

For one brief moment, they would know what it feels like to sit at a table and never wonder whether they’re too much, too little, too strange, too old, too young, too loud, too quiet, too different.

No performance required.

No qualifications for belonging.

Just…

“Come sit with us.”

And then I’d give the genie a rather pointed look.

Because I know what you’re thinking.

“But Luce, that’s an awfully sentimental wish.”

Perhaps.

But imagine what might happen afterwards.

Someone who has finally experienced that kind of acceptance might be a little more willing to offer it to somebody else.

A mother might listen instead of judge.

A teenager might decide not to join in when everyone else is picking on someone.

A colleague might notice the person sitting alone.

A stranger might hold the door.

A friend might say, “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

And perhaps that little feeling would travel.

From one person to another.

Not because the genie magically fixed humanity.

But because somebody finally understood what it felt like to belong.

And if the genie then said,

“You still have one wish left.”

I’d probably look at him suspiciously.

“Wait. What?”

“You asked for one wish. You got it. You still have two more.”

Darling…

I’d read the bloody contract first.

Stay Fabulous,
Luce 💋