I believe in believing. In believing without qualms or shame or the good sense Mama and Daddy would tell you they gave me.
In lottery tickets and sweepstakes entries.
In tying my straw wrapper in a knot because someone once said, if it comes untied, the man I love is thinking about me.
In making wishes on stray eyelashes.
In blowing kisses at red birds, even though I can’t remember what that means and people look at me sideways when I stop mid-sentence to do it.
In every sunrise spreading pink and purple possibility of something to put butterflies in my stomach and thunder in my chest.
In that, one of these mornings, I’m going to get up early enough to see if the sunrise really is pink and purple like I imagine it.
In (kiss, kiss, kiss) the idea that I sound like Loretta Lynn when the windows are down and the radio loud – or at least I could with the voice lessons I’ll get with my lottery money.
If you enjoyed this essay, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to This I Believe, Inc.