Stamp

I recently went to the birthday party of Jack, a little boy I babysit for. He was turning three and after he blew out his candles his mother asked him what he wished for.  He replied,

“Puppy.”

“Oh.  You wished for a puppy?”

“No.  I wished to be a puppy.”

When I was a kid, on every candle I blew out on every birthday cake, every coin I threw into a fountain, every shooting star, I wished to be a famous actress.  When I was really little I wished to be a famous actress and…like a famous actress and a teacher, or and an astronaut… and president… and  a princess.  I understood that to be a Princess, I would need to be part of some Grace Kelly type scenario—my parents weren’t kings and queens and I have no royal heritage, so I’d have to marry into it.  Even at four I dreamed big, but pragmatically.

Now, I still wish to be a movie star… it feels a little less pragmatic now, I guess, but I don’t care.  I dream big… shit, I still dream to be a movie star and president (if Reagan can do it, anyone can).  But there are some things I want that I don’t wish for.

On the phone with my mother last week we were talking about my dad, and she said,

“Don’t you just wish that he was back with us?”

And I told her, 

“No…  I don’t wish for that.  I want it, but I don’t actively wish or pray or ask the universe for something I know I can never have.  I pray to be healthy, to be happy, and for my friends and family to have the same.  I wish for dad’s happiness wherever he is, and that if some part of him goes on, I wish for that part to be close to me. But, I don’t wish for the impossible.” 

I don’t wish to be a puppy.  But still…

A few days ago, I passed a huge display of Father’s Day gifts in a window on Fifth Avenue, and I had one thought, “My dad is dead, I should get him a present.”  It was all one thought.  I didn’t forget my dad was gone, in fact, that was why in that moment I felt I had to get him a Father’s Day gift.

This thought was an involuntary thought—the kind of thought you have and then need to explain to yourself.  You’ve had this kind thought—it’s like where you think something horrible and immediately feel guilty for thinking it, because the thought popped up without your control or even consent.  This wasn’t an awful thought, just a foolish one.

I felt like if I bought him a gift he would be here to accept it.  Like if I had a present and I went home to give it to him, he would be sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me to hand it to him, and he would react the way he’s reacted to every gift I’ve watched him receive in my entire life, “Oh wow!  This is great!  This is really neat.  Thank you so much!”  He would say it in an exited, awed, whisper-shout voice that he had for such occasions… a voice I hear now only in dreams.

It’s like Snow White says (you didn’t think a Disney princess was going to tie everything together, did you?) “A dream is a wish your heart makes.”  There are the things I know I want: things I ask for, pray for, wish for…. And then there are things that you wish for without knowing—things that your heart wishes, that your soul yearns for and that are manifest only in dreams, and are completely visceral rather than logical. 

This is why you walk up and down the aisles at Duane Reade looking for the perfect Father’s Day card...Why you buy it even though you know you don’t have anyone to give it to.

This is why a part of me hopes that when I go to babysit Jack on Thursday he comes running down the hallway wagging his tail.  I mean… I know he won’t… I guess I don’t even really hope that…It’s silly, not only because who would want to be a puppy if you could be a spoiled three-year-old on Upper East Side, but because it’s just… not going to happen.

But I think I’ll find a stamp.  Just in case.