That’s an old question, isn’t it? And as we get older, our answers tend to change. When I was young—somewhere around fifth grade—my answers felt so big back then.
My first wish was for a new bike. Silly, I know. But at that age, it was everything. A bike meant freedom. It meant I wasn’t stuck in one place—I could explore beyond the small bubble of walking distance. I could go faster, farther. And honestly, who doesn’t love to go fast?
My second wish would have been for a comfy bed. I always read stories about little girls who curled up in cozy beds with soft sheets, warm blankets, and fluffy pillows. That dream still holds true for many adults today, if we’re honest. There’s something sweet and simple about the idea of comfort—a good night’s rest, a peaceful space. It’s not a lavish wish, but a fundamental one. A comfortable place to lay your head is almost a need—it restores your energy, your health, and your spirit.
My third wish? A never-ending supply of food.
If you’ve read my blog before, you know what that would have meant. For those visiting for the first time—welcome. Food, for me, wasn’t just nourishment. It was survival. Growing up, my sisters and I often didn’t know where our next meal would come from. We weren’t talking about “I missed lunch” hunger—we were talking about days without eating, losing weight, that hollow ache that changes you.
I want to pause here. I wasn’t anorexic—but if you’re experiencing that kind of hunger or struggling with food insecurity, please, reach out for help. You’d think that level of hunger wouldn’t exist in today’s world, but it does. When I was a child, my family simply couldn’t afford enough food to feed seven people. The programs available now weren’t as accessible then.
By the time I was around ten or eleven, my ideas about wishes had shifted again. We moved around constantly, often losing our homes. I didn’t understand our financial situation, just that we had to move—sometimes with no power, sometimes with just enough food to get by. Thankfully, generous neighbors would let us help in their gardens, and they’d share what they grew. We always had fruits and vegetables because of them.
So my wishes at that age were still simple.
My first wish? Chickens. I thought they were adorable—and practical. Eggs, meat, and a little backyard fun. My second wish stayed the same: a bike. The only difference was that now we lived closer to people, not out in the country. Still a simple, heartfelt wish.
As for a third wish, I honestly can’t remember. Maybe I didn’t have one. I never wished for superpowers or fairy-tale magic; even as a kid, I thought real needs mattered more.
Fast forward to today. Someone asked me that question again—and my squirrel brain immediately jumped through all those different stages of my life. My wishes now? Very different.
My first wish would be sustainable generational wealth.
I know—it sounds cliché. Money. But hear me out. It’s not just for me. It’s for my children, and their children. Growing up poor shaped me deeply, and my goal as a parent is for my kids to never know that kind of struggle. I don’t want them to experience hunger, cold winters without heat, or the heartbreak of saying no to small joys because money is tight.
It’s not about greed or luxury. I wouldn’t want mansions or yachts. I’d pay off my home, clear my debts, and create a stable foundation. Generational wealth means freedom—the ability to travel to see family overseas, to give my kids experiences, and to never again have to choose between paying a bill and seeing a doctor.
My second wish? A healthy, complete body.
That may sound strange, but let me explain. I no longer have a thyroid, which affects everything—hormones, energy, emotions, metabolism. Without it, I’m at risk for serious complications like a myxedema coma. I also don’t have a gallbladder, so certain foods are off-limits. Add in food allergies and a back injury with bulging discs, and, well… it’s a lot.
If I could have my body whole and healthy again, I could move more, eat more freely, and live with less pain. Even if I had the wealth to pay for treatments, it wouldn’t replace the feeling of truly being well.
And my third wish?
That’s the hardest one.
The first two wishes would already secure my family’s future and give me my health. So what could possibly come next?
I think I’d give that third wish away—to one of you.
What would you do with my last wish? How would you use it to change your life—or someone else’s? Tell me in the comments.
Until next time, keep the coffee strong and the chaos manageable.
The Overbooked Life 
Leave a comment