On the morning of Hıdırellez, I woke up early to the sound of birds and the smell of fresh spring air. The night before, my friends and I had written our wishes on small pieces of paper and placed them under a rose bush, just like the tradition says. While others wrote things like “I want to get into a top university” or “I want to travel the world,” my wish was simple: “I hope everyone’s wishes come true.”
I didn’t think much would happen, but that morning felt different. My best friend called me, crying with joy—her father, who had been missing in Syria for years, had been found alive and was finally coming home. I was shocked. Then my neighbor told us his medical tests came back clean. He had been sick for months, and now he was healthy. Even the small bakery on our street, which was about to close, received a surprise donation and stayed open. All day, I heard more stories. People smiling, laughing, and crying with happiness. I didn’t ask for anything for myself, but seeing everyone else’s dreams come true filled my heart.
That Hıdırellez taught me something important: sometimes the greatest wish is the one you make for others. Their joy became mine. I felt connected to something bigger than myself, like my small wish had started a chain reaction of hope. Since that day, I have tried to help people more, listen better, and be kind whenever I can. Maybe we don’t need magic every time, just a little care, a little belief, and one honest wish….