Wishes and dreams...

"I wish" might come from a friend wanting to something to change a situation, but feeling nothing short of helpless as she listens to someone she loves struggle to make it through each new day.

"I wish" likely echoes the thoughts of a man who is silently coveting the brand new corvette that zooms around him in his minivan as he drives up a mountain road. (Totally made that one up, by the way. It didn't happen this weekend or anything.)

"I wish" can be heard from mothers everywhere as they long for someone else to clean the house and do the six loads of dirty laundry that are piled on the floor.

"I wish" is likely the way you'll hear about a child wanting to have a pony or the ability to fly.


The phrase has taken on new meaning with me and my "Mommy's heart" today. Until this weekend, it seemed to be so much bigger than my small children. Not that they don't have wishes and dreams, I know that they definitely do. It's just that, to me, being able to clearly state them with "I wish" seems like such a big step.

Friday, we were driving down the road we always take to get into our neighborhood. As we passed the little farmhouse and stables, instead of showing his sister the horses and helping her "neigh" instead of "moo," Mitchell said this:

"Hey, Mommy...I wish I could ride a horse."

There was even a dreamy quality to his voice as he said it. I had to look in the rearview mirror to be sure it was really him, strapped into his carseat. My little boy wishes to ride a horse. Before that moment, he most likely would have said something like, "Hey, Mommy? Can I ride a horse some day?" On Friday, he dreamed a dream and out came a wish.

He grows a little more every day, and I'm not talking about his height.

As we were driving past a lake on our way home from the mountains yesterday, it happened again. We were talking about how beautiful the scene was: the lake set up against the trees, the clouds casting shadows on the water, and the sailboats skimming across the water. Georgia pointed out the window and excitedly yelled, "Wawa!! Wawa!! Boat!" Her brother didn't say a word. He just looked.



I had turned around in my seat while I was talking to them and it was like looking through a little window in Mitchell's mind. He silently stared out the window and was obviously lost in the beauty of what he saw. When we passed the edge of the lake, he continued looking out of his window for a few moments longer, but then turned his head toward me. We locked eyes and a big smile crept across his face, which in turn, made me smile.

Then he said, "I wish I could sail on a boat. Maybe when I'm five, I can go sailing."

I just smiled and said "Maybe," knowing that watching moments like that through your child's eyes is nothing short of a gift. It was hard to resist the urge to bolt to the backseat and just wrap him in my arms and rock him. Instead, I reached over and held my husband's hand. He looked at me and said "Did he just say he wants to go sailing?"

Yes, it's his wish.