My mother told me that every spring, dandelions bloomed there. She had also told me how the seeds, soft as cotton brought your wishes up into the heavens, and then grant them. Every year, I made one wish. I believed that if I were to make anymore, none of them would come true. I inhaled again, my body desperately needing oxygen as I pushed through the wind with my bare feet. I knew I was almost there, seeing the seeds dance with the wind, exactly as my long hair has been dancing. This thought made me run faster, but I ended up jogging in the end. What was I going to wish for? A dog? A boyfriend? A best friend? My lips, now somewhat moisturized by spit, curved into a smile, and my eyes were suddenly contaminated with ecstatic as I realized what that wish would be, what that miracle was. Thinking about it made my heart beat ten times faster, and my feet, covered in grass stains, managed to pick up the pace.