When I was young, my family and I would travel the distance to Buckley, Illinois on holidays. It would always be late and the sky would be dark driving home. If I was lucky, the sky would be packed with stars, all seemingly waiting in line to be the brightest, some so faint yet you could sense their existence nonetheless. Those aren’t the ones I’d wish upon. No, I’d look for the most brilliant one, twinkling in such a way that gave some glimmer of hope that this star might be the one to grant my wish, at last. I knew the drive home would be a quiet one because nobody in my family talks to each other; car rides are often silent. Which suits me fine, I’d rather be in my own head, entertaining my own thoughts, daydreaming. In fact, daydreaming has always consumed most of my time. So I looked forward to being in the car, gazing upward and pondering the celestial sky, transcending my current vessel to some other place and some other time. Driving home those nights I’d make a wish. It would be the same wish, always. And I wonder now if the expression on my face was similar to the one on my son’s face when he blew out his birthday candles a few weeks ago–intense, yet smiling, with a sense of knowing. There seemed to be no doubt in my mind that if I wanted something bad enough it would manifest, the universe would respond to my pleas; all would be forgiven and I would find love. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. That’s all I’ve ever wished for.
So this Christmas, I throw my wish out there in hopes that I don’t wear it thin: I want to be forgiven. I want to be loved. I want to find someone. I want to be found. I wish for somebody who is willing to see me through all the bullshit, who understands me and where I’m coming from. I wish to be with somebody who I can share a special laugh and a certain look with. A look that says in seconds, “Hey, remember all the crazy shit we’ve been through together? Don’t nobody have nothin’ on us”. A look that says, “You’re the only person I would travel to hell and back with”. Hell is a place on earth and it’s buried deep inside me. But not when he’s around. He makes the world a brighter place to be.
That’s all I want. That’s my Christmas wish; my humble plea to anyone who can point me in the right direction. Please send him to me. Release me from this prison.