Spells for Lost Things

by Jenna Evans Welch

FERNWEH (noun): A German word that means “farsickness,” best understood as the opposite of homesickness. A longing for far-off places, in particular those you haven’t seen yet.

Daisy. Poppy. Lily. Dahlia. Rosemary. Sage. And me. Willow. It’s a garden I didn’t know I was a part of.

Being with Willow is like holding a sparkler: she’s beautiful and exciting, but I’m also hyperaware I might get burned at any moment.

If hanging out on rooftops with Willow was a religion, I’d convert immediately.

We meet eyes in the mirror, and for a moment I feel something—but that’s not quite right, because it isn’t a something. It’s more like the absence of a nothing. The big, empty feeling I walk around with all the time, the deep, dark hole I’m constantly trying not to fall into, is gone. And for a moment I feel okay with being exactly where I am.

“Every minute with you is magic.” It’s a Salem thing to say. But I mean it. Magic is when unseen elements come together to form something brand new, and that’s exactly what is happening here.