Tis the Season! (Part 1 of 10???)

Thanksgiving Eve, I was perusing through the Facebook thankfuls when one of those eCard thingies caught my eye.  It was something about the holiday serving up the finest in family dysfunction.  I chuckled, thought about reading it to my sister, and then glanced up to see who posted it.  It was my mother.  I was all at once filled with happiness and relief.  This was, in some ways, a sign I had been waiting for.  She knew!  She knew!

My mom has done a great job keeping—or trying to keep—everyone in the family together.  In more ways than one.  And, I imagine, this job is not an easy one.  I am sure it is filled with stress and pain and worry and, sadly, disappointment.  But, perhaps because of her role as the glue that binds us, I always had the feeling that she thought we were normal.  Or, maybe not normal exactly, but not that bad.  Ha!

When I awoke on Thanksgiving morning, I was not thinking about dysfunction.  Not exactly.  Not directly.  I was thinking about magic again and how I not only didn’t see the world through my six-year-old’s eyes, but how I maybe even squelched his sense of wonder with my inability to engage with him on a childlike level.  Okay, so yeah, I was thinking dysfunction.

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A Reflection on Dream Making

When I was a little girl, maybe six, maybe older (I believed in magic with such fervor and a full heart that I may have tried this well past six), I used to wish, nightly, upon a star.  “Star light, star bright,” I’d say, eyes squeezed shut.  “The first star I see tonight…”  My eyes would pop open knowing that part of the mystery lay in my finding that perfect star on first glance. “I wish I may, I wish I might…” Then, I would wish for the power to be a changeling, the ability to turn into any animal at will.  I would crawl down onto the floor after making my wish, curl into a ball, forehead to knees, and whisper “make me a bunny.”  Regardless of the lack of success, I did not give up easily.  It was probably not until the tragic evening that I learned the truth about Santa Clause (perhaps a reason that I was an atheistic teen and young adult), that I gave up on this dream.   While there are so many reasons that this wish denying sucked, the most frustrating may have been that I was unable to live out my secondary fantasy of turning into a T-Rex behind the playground  to frighten the school bully.  That would have been stellar.

While I’ve lost touch with my stake in the realm of magic, even to deny the idea of miracles, I have not, I suppose, completely lost touch with the idea that dreams might come true.  The only difference being that the outcome of the adult dream does not manifest from a star, but from discipline and hard work and ingenuity and maybe a little chance and maybe a little luck, depending on the dream of course.

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