If Wishes Were Fishes

How exactly does it go? I forget, so I shall look it up.

Ah, here we are...
Links to two of my favorite renditions - both on YouTube of course:

This is the ORIGINAL and this one is a COVER. <--- click on the highlighted words.

I wish I was home again, home in my heart again,

It's been a long time since my heart talked to me;

Wastin' my precious days, wishin' my life away,

If wishes were fishes, we'd all cast nets in the sea.

I wish I was young again, my song still to be sung again,

The sweet tunes of my life have gone sour and off key;

Writin' my tired old rhymes, tryin' to turn back time,

If wishes were fishes, we'd all cast nets in the sea.

If wishes were fishes, I know where I'd be,

Casting my net in the dark rolling sea;

And if my net's empty when it comes back to shore,

I'll throw it away and go fishing no more.

I wish I could care again, reach out and share again,

Mend what's been broken and let it run free;

The older I get it seems, more wishin' takes the place of dreams,

If wishes were fishes, we'd all cast nets in the sea.

If wishes were fishes, I know where I'd be,

Casting my net in the dark rolling sea;

And if my net's empty when it comes back to shore,

I'll throw it away and go fishing no more.

So what is it that has me thinking about wishes? I've been thinking since last week when my kids were sick and I was caring for them, putting cool cloths on their foreheads, making them chicken soup, taking their temperatures and snuggling them into warm blankets while I read to them until they were fast asleep that I wished I had someone I could call Mom.

The person who raised me was my biological mother but she was not motherly. I didn't get chicken soup. I don't think she even knows how to make chicken soup.

Life wasn't too bad until I was about four and a half. That was when I first recall knowing that something had been happening to my mom. Something in her was breaking or jumping off a cliff or diving down the rabbit's hole. I look back now and I think I can pin point the exact day that I think I know when she started losing it or maybe I had just gained the exact right amount of understanding on that day to see her for what she really was. I am not going to tell you that story. Just know that I know it was a definite turning point and my life was never the same after that day.

I posted a long time ago in this blog about some growing up memories that are painful to recall but helpful to write down - get them out of your head and onto "paper", they say. Black Sheep And Dark Secrets can be read here for a little more insight into my twisted up psychologically draining childhood that any good therapist would have a total hay-day with. And yes, I see a therapist. She told me the other day that she thinks I might be the most resilient person she knows because of course, she knows a few my dark little secrets and that I'm not suicidal. I guess most people who have been through some of the things I've been through have a hard time coming out the other side and learning something from all the shit they've been through. I totally understand that.

I'm just one of those fairly even keel kind of people so even trauma effects me differently than most. And of course, writing helps me to deal with many things. Again, a hugely recommended tool by therapists across the nation - pen and paper or a keyboard, if you prefer; as I do. There is not a person alive today besides myself that knows everything I've been through. And I'll likely keep it that way because as they also say, some things are better left unsaid.

Back to the whole "I wish I had a mom" thing. I have heard many people talk about their moms in very endearing ways. How their moms are the one person in the world they can call when they are anywhere on the feelings spectrum. Elated that they got approved for a new loan, saddened that they fought with a friend, bored and watching sappy movies on the Hallmark Channel.

I have no idea what that is like. I have no idea what it feels like to know without a shadow of a doubt that you have someone you can always call at three o'clock in the morning when you can't sleep because you are worried about something.

I have no idea what it feels like when someone says "I want my mom." I've never wanted her. Not my mom. Sure, I've wanted A mom; I want one right now, just not mine! Oh hell to the no! If I was on my death bed, she would be the last person I would think to call.

But yes, I wish I had a mom. I wish I had a mom to tell all my little dark secrets to who would give me advice I probably don't want or really need. I wish I had a mom tell me how I need to eat healthier and exercise more and get a real haircut. I wish I had a mom to tell me how to live my life and how to raise my children even though I probably wouldn't listen to her. I wish I had a mom who would take my children to the beach and bring them back covered in sand that makes a mess all over my carpet. I wish I had a mom who would come over to my house to criticize the organization of my kitchen cupboards and put everything away from the dishwasher in the wrong place.

But wishing for something that can never be is futile. So I wish for a little while, blog about it, realize that I'm being completely unproductive by wanting something I will never have and I go to the store to buy some Oreos, milk, ice cream and Jello. That should make me feel better until it makes me feel guilty. I can deal with the guilt, so I dig in.

After a bit of the Jello, I decide that instead what I shall wish for is that when my children are grown they will call me when they can't sleep or are stressed about finals week, when they get a new job, fall in love, out of love, hate their jobs, get new jobs, find out they are going to be a parent, or that they have decided they don't want to be a parent, want advice on raising their kids, want to tell me to stop giving them advice on raising their kids, want me to give their siblings advice on raising kids, or want me to take the kids to the beach and bring them back all covered in sand and hyped up on sweets. I hope that when my kids are grown, they will know what it feels like to say "I want my mom." And then I will be there for them.

Until Next Time,

JessicaInSeattle

And This Too Shall Pass

Once again I am called upon to hone my skills of patience and determination. Last week as I went to pick my children up and take them to school, I was blindsided by becoming an involuntary participant in a dance I had partaken in all too many times in my life already.

Yes, the word 'dance' is used metaphorically and intentionally leaves you wondering to what it is I am referring.

I shall leave that for you, dear reader, to ponder and allow you to come to your own conclusion.

I thought for a few seconds that it was to be a short dance, but after further consideration, I decided to allow the dance to flow with the music for which it was written.

No, I was not the original composer of this particular piece; that would have been the person who pulled me to the dance floor.

I, however, took the lead after the first few steps and have begun to write in my own notations in the margin with an indelible ink thereby forever altering the piece.

I did not want to participate in this dance and would have preferred it never to have occurred. Unfortunately, I did not have a say in the matter.

I do, though, have a say in how I conduct myself on the dance floor. I choose to do so elegantly and with grace even though a part of me wants to lash out.

In this particular dance, there are more than just two on the floor and if I were to act without prior judgement of such action, it may cause undue harm to the other dancers.

Every composition comes to an end. Stepping to this piece has altered the path of my life but it too shall pass.