Make a Little Wish

I wish to be a princess like Sleeping Beauty, I closed my eyes super-duper tight, envisioning a dress of revolving blue-and-pink, and clicked my heels three times for good Wizardly measure. I opened to see my mom with her fluffy permed hair and big, bright smile that served as a gentle reassurance that my dreams would come true. I would be a princess. I’d get that fancy castle and the charming prince. I’d be able to sing like the songbirds and I’d have that hourglass figure I thought was so grown-up, so pretty, so princess-like.

Until I stopped wishing for crowns and crayons, and started wanting recorders and notebooks.

I wish to be on television! To be like Lois Lane and find Superman, I wished while wearing a more mature dress, toting around my recorder and interviewing anyone who would speak with me. I quizzed my party guests on how they felt the party was going, what they would have liked to be different, and if they were having fun. I even questioned my kitty, Indy. Then after the Aladdian cake was cut, the pinata was smashed and the presents were revealed, I went to write away the events of the night. I then would properly hand them to my mom, bounded with string, and retire to the sitting room to watch Nick Jr. My wish would come true one day, I’d be a journalist.

Until I didn’t want to be filmed anymore, but I just wanted to write. And I wanted to write about boys.

I wish that Mr. Curls would fall madly in love with me and we would get married and have babies and be happy and he’d be smitten. OH MY GOD, Please, please, please, PLEASE – just let him love me!!!, I wished through crooked-teeth while covering my pimply chin with Covergirl makeup, and sporting a totally rad crimped 90’s hairstyle. My cheeks were flushed red from skating to Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys. I anxiously looked above the moms standing by and my friends, all chattering away and eating intensely sugary cake, to see if Mr. Curls had arrived. He was invited, he said he would come, but he was late. I looked at my mom who looked angry and frustrated, probably just as disappointed as I was, but angrier that I was sad on my birthday. That night, I cried while silently wishing he’d have a good excuse and listening to Mandy Moore’s, “I Wanna Be With You” on repeat. I wished he’d be mine. I wished that adorable little mop head would fall for me.

Until I got over him and moved onto other boys who fell for me quickly, yet not as quickly as my father had fallen.

I wish, dear God, that my father would get better. I hate seeing my mom sad and I’m so scared of losing him forever. I don’t know what’s wrong but I wish for it to be fixed. I wish for his health, I looked around our tiny kitchen while my puppy Suzie circled my feet, whimpering. Dad attempted a smile, though he never quite got all the way there. I knew he was equal parts happy for the birth of a new year, and then sad that I was getting older. I was terrified of him getting older, of getting sicker. There couldn’t be any better gift than his health, even if I was going off to college. I wished for him to find his peace, so my mom could rest. I wish for his happiness so I wouldn’t feel so guilty leaving.

Until he did fully recover and turn back into that jovial man I adored growing up. The only downside was now I wanted to leave. I needed to leave.

I wish that once I graduate, I’ll be able to make it in New York City. I wish to be a writer, to live in the city. I wish to leave Mr. Idea behind and find someone else. I wish for it all: my city, my job, my man, I looked up and greeted Mr. Idea’s stare, noting the deep wrinkle in between his eyes. Those eyes that just weren’t as doting as I wanted them to be. I was finally 21! Now, I can drink and be cool, sophisticated and employed. I have to move to New York – it isn’t even a wish as much as it is a demand. It can’t be wishful thinking, but positive thinking! If I can believe it, I can do it. I wish to be a New Yorker. I wish to write. I wish to come into my own.

Until of course, I do live in New York. I am a writer, or actually, an editor. I did ditch Mr. Idea and I did find something else that I may very well ditch, too. I’m not a princess but I feel royally blessed. I don’t desire to be on television but you may see me from time-to-time in an unintentional cameo, especially when my wonderful job gives me the opportunity to meet Sarah Jessica Parker. I’ve been able to move past guys who don’t do as they say they will, and I’ve found myself smitten with the life I’ve been lucky to lead.

So when all those wishes come true, when you have everything you ever wanted for this stage in your life, what do you wish for? When the pieces fit together, when you’re content and blissful, when all worked out in a more perfect way than you could ever wished – what’s a girl to do? What’s that birthday candle for?

What do I think when I close my eyes as my friends say: “Make a wish Linds!! Blow out those candles, girl! Get em!”

This year, it’s for you. For all of you who have read this blog for the past year. Who have been supportive and dedicated, consistently giving feedback and advice when I needed it the most. For my birthday on this special day, I wish that all of your dreams come true just like mine have.

And most of all, I wish you all love. The kind of love that starts and ends from within. It’s the kind of love that makes you realize you don’t need all those wishes after all. They aren’t what got you here – it’s you. It’s all that love that makes you believe in the magic that is you.