My Two Front Teeth

When I was younger I spent a lot of time gazing upward and pondering the celestial sky, transcending my current vessel to some other place and some other time. Some nights the sky would be packed with stars, all seemingly waiting in line to be the brightest and some so faint, yet you could sense their existence nonetheless.  But 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.  And on those nights I’d make a wish.  It would be the same wish, always.  As a mother with children of my own, I wonder if the expression on my face then 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 plea; 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 cast the same wish 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 a partner who is willing to see me through all the bullshit; who listens and understands.  I wish to be with someone I can share a special laugh and a certain look with; a look that instantly says, “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.  I wish for someone who takes me back to Heaven.

That’s all I want.  That’s my Christmas wish; my humble plea to the Universe. Afterall, I already have my two front teeth.

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