Star Night, Star Bright…Tanis Miller
As we trudged through the snow towards the house, my daughter asked me what I wished for.
“Well, I can’t tell you. Because then it wouldn’t come true,” I solemnly replied.
My son and daughter snorted at me and I’m pretty sure I saw them roll their eyes but it was dark out and I was cold and to be honest, the flash of the whites of their eyes could have been the reflection of the snowy ground around us, but I’d be willing to bet money that they thought I was crazy.
I mean my husband does so why should they be any different.
So I turned the tables on them and asked what they wished for.
“We’re not telling because then it wouldn’t come true,” they replied in derision.
Smart children I have.
So I changed tactics and asked them not to tell me what specific wish they just made but what wishes they would make if they had three wishes that were guaranteed to come true, shooting star or not.
I listened to them dream of unyielding riches, fame, and other typical wishes. One wants to be taller, the other wants to have huge muscles. They both want mansions, and successful careers.
But then they surprised me and said they both would wish for families just like ours when they grow up and get older.
I’ll admit, my heart grew three sizes from its regular grinchy size.
And then it was my turn. What would I wish for if I could have any three wishes in the world?
I know my kids were expecting lighthearted responses, but I take my wishes seriously. There is no room in my life for frivolous wishes. I believe in the power of words and I’m not going to throw my wishes away on words of fame and fortune.
“I’d wish for peace.”
They looked at me quizzically, not really understanding what I was getting at. “You mean like world peace?” they asked.
As I looked at them staring back at me, my wishes flashed in my mind.
I’d wish for the type of peace that comes with knowing that their little brother, lost amongst the heavens, still exists somewhere. That he is happy and safe and not missing us.
I’d wish for the type of peace I’d have knowing I’d have one more moment with him. One more snuggle, one more kiss good night.
I’d wish for the peace that comes with knowing what he’d look like if he were alive. Would he be tall? Would he look like his father? Would he be able to say my name?
I’d wish for peace of mind that comes with knowing that my kids will all live long happy lives. That they will find happiness and joy and success in their own futures.
I’d wish for the peace that comes with growing old and being surrounded by a family of loved ones. Of being able to look into generations of children that all began with the love I share with their father.
I’d wish for the peace of mind of knowing that my youngest child will live. That his medical battles will ease and that he’ll out-live me. I’d wish for a day when I no longer had to worry that today could be the day something goes terribly wrong and he leaves us to join his brother in the heavens.
I’d wish my son would live an entire day not knowing any pain. I’d wish for a prognosis that didn’t include a shortened life span, seizures, infection or any of the plethora of things that will eventually shorten his life.
I’d wish everyone on this earth would wish Jumbster a long and happy life, because maybe if enough people make the same wish it will come true. Because I don’t know if I have it in me to bury another child.
I’d wish for a future filled with tomorrows for each of my children.
Because that is what would bring me peace.
But I didn’t say any of that out loud.
Instead, I smiled at them and said, “Ya, world peace. That is what I would wish for.”
No sense telling them the real meaning behind my wish. Because then it may not come true.