Devonne Brown

The genie granted me three wishes and of course the first two came true in a blaze of glory. He told me to be wise with my wishes and I felt that I was, foolishment was meant for sissies, I wanted all my wishes to mean something. To be granted wishes was nothing to sneeze at, and since I was down to my last, I had to think long and hard. I had all I wanted. My dreams had come true already, what more could there possibly be for me, and it had to be for me.

I already had figured out how to grow beautiful flowers and tomatoes in the garden. They were lush and green. I knew how to keep the deer out of them too. My Elizabethan fence of sticks and logs around the yard had long since been completed and was part of the lovely landscape of the postage stamp yard. I collected honey from beehives and rarely got stung.

The last of the wishes was to commune with my friends or a friend in the house or the garden when the spirit moved us. To share words that we thought, wrote, or what was on our minds while we sat on the porch under the oaks and watched the bluebirds. It could be we watched the snow fly from the windows of the family room and share a meal together. 

Yes, my last wish would be to be surrounded by friends, like minded folks with stories to share. They could stand at my podium and speak from their hearts or read from their pages whatever their spirits led them to share. I’d serve wine and cheese with olives and maybe guacamole and chips. Some soup might be in order as well. Of course there would be coffee, my son makes delicious lattes. 

There would be peace, only peace in the kingdom before my death comes.