INT: AN AIRPORT
Ian and Danielle are about to board an international flight to India, where he will be doing graduate work for six months.
Stop asking me, Ian, of course I'm sure. There are things you don't know and things you're unsure about and things you hope for. But then there are things that are just so easy it's like breathing or sleeping or falling in love-effortless. I'm coming with you. End of story.
See, I've been trusting and not trusting the universe my whole life. Making a wish by blowing on a dandelion is trusting-but making the same wish on every dandelion you see is also untrusting. Faith and doubt go hand in hand. I've looked for direction in every stupid place possible: I've made wishes by holding my breath through tunnels, blowing out candles, dropping coins in wells, breaking turkey wishbones, and blinking away eyelashes. It always seemed so unlikely that there would be so many opportunities for answers scattered in everyday places but I used them all, hoping that at some point I'd feel certainty and that I'd know which way to go.
I've used up all my wishes getting to this point. From here on I have to trust what comes our way. I trust you. Entirely. The universe and its whimsies can take a flying leap. I'll bite the heads off dandelions, shut my eyes to passing clocks, breathe easy through tunnels, and throw the wishbones away whole. I don't need them anymore.