India - No Place For A Wish

We were offering our wishes, he explained, to Ganga—the goddess of the river that bears her name. A bath in her waters was the ultimate symbol of redemption and purification, and a wish was perhaps amplified here more than anywhere else.
I looked at the water. It was black. No place for a wish.
“If you can’t think of anything to wish for, wish for world peace.” Ganesh smirked, as if reading my mind, and then hustled to the front of the boat.
I heard his instructions but rebelled. I already knew I wasn’t going to make a wish.
Eight months ago, I was married with a comfortable urban apartment and a dual-income life. On a rare cloudy day in Los Angeles from my perch on the living room futon, I told my husband of seven years that it was over.
“Why?” he’d asked. Shocked. Baffled.
“Being married is not conducive to the life I want to live,” sounding like I was running a meeting.
“What life is that?” He tilted his head.
“I want to travel the world.”
By Kristin Zibell (to be continued)