My road came to an unexpected halt on November 9, 2010.

That morning, I was bicycling to work when a garbage truck turned across a city bike lane. I was in that bike lane.

A team of trauma surgeons saved my life, but they had to amputate my left leg. My body and life were forever changed.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.

As I learned to walk again, I measured my recovery in steps and then miles. Over time that journey grew into something more -- a way of being in the world, wherever I go.

I am a person of ability and disability. I travel in the space between. These are my postcards.

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Wish Wall


Mile Marker 4030:

I wish I could tell you I swim for exercise in the morning.

But really it's for the coffee.

I park along 9th Street.  My hair's still damp as the sun rises over the Italian Market.  In tiny Gleaner's Cafe, wedged between market stalls, I order a "small hot."  The coffee is rich, like dark cocoa.  At this time of day, it's pretty much all I could wish for.

I head back to the car to go home and start my day.   But as I start up the engine, colors catch the corner of my eye.

It's a collage of flyers, overlapped like a paper mosaic.

If I squint, I can read the title:

WISH WALL

It's still early.  I have a minute or two.  I hop back out, coffee in hand.

Step closer.

Some have been smeared with rain, but most are legible.  They're people's wishes, penned on pastel index cards for posterity.

Click any photo
to enlarge and read...
I stand.  I sip.  I read.  I've never been much for meditation, but on this quiet morning, that's what it feels like.  I breathe in the wishes.  My eyes wander the board.

There are wishes for health, for family, and for forgiveness.  For small things like toys, and for big things like cures for cancer.

A handful are written in Spanish.  A few are crayoned by kids.

There are milestones celebrated.  Goals to be achieved.

And in many different words and ways, an overarching wish for PEACE.


It's like a thousand voices from this neighborhood mingled together under a sheet of Plexiglas.

Fascinating.  Especially to a wisher like me.

Is this real?  And how long has it been here?

I look around.  The lot is mostly deserted.  A few people walk by on their way to work -- earbuds in, eyes on their phones -- some sipping coffee like me.  I'm the only one looking at the Wish Wall.

I wonder if these neighbors realize how much they have in common?

Hope.  Intention.  Strength.  Life.  Community.  So much meaning in so little square footage.

Then I start thinking... maybe a wish is just the beginning.

What if we all had the courage to put our dreams out there?  If instead of building walls to keep people out, we built more walls like this one?

What if EVERY neighborhood had a Wish Wall? 

The ideas flow quickly, one into the next, spurred on by caffeine.  My coffee cup is half-empty.  Or wait -- maybe it's half-full!

Go ahead.  Make a wish.

Get it out there.

You never know who might find it.


Where'd this wall come from?  I did a bit of research! Click here for the story behind it.   For more information about the WISHWALL Foundation, click here.  

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