Wishes

Spring; the leek gathering took place in a woods full of the last trilliums and the first waxen jack-in-the pulpits, fallen tree trunks ages old were knotted in covers of lichens and moss; the farmer's market has started, with homegrown asparagus standing like bundled arrows and the young man who plays accordion on a folding chair.  Windows are pushed open, visiting spiders are escorted out.  People are glad, and come down to Canalside to breathe in the fresh air of the lake and see the new developments that are part of this city's resurgence.  Many bicycles, more than I've seen in years; the mayor is putting in bicycle lanes everywhere to encourage riding.

All of this--plus the sound of ice cream truck chimes out on the street, innocent flower heads guillotined off by seven year old fingers and brought triumphantly to my desk, and best, no more snow jackets--has sent my kids over the top.  They are exuberant, distracted, and trying to get last licks in on mortal enemies.  He looked at my paper so I punched him.  She said I was stupid so I punched her.  Stairs?  I need no stairs, watch me jump the last six.  I can fit in this locker, close the door, and make animal noises.

You hear odd barking sounds, stick your head out into the hallway, see no one, go back to the lesson and BLAHBLAHHHHH!!  WOOF WOOF WOOF!!!  FUCK YOOOOOUUUUU!!!!  Stick your head out into the hallway again, then call the office.  Once the kid realized he couldn't open the door from the inside, the eff yous transformed into second grade pleading and screaming for some assistance. What the heck goes on in their heads?

I gave my class the "Don't You Ever" look and continued with the inquiry on Dr. Martin Luther King's  "I Have a Dream" speech, and what would your dream be for our country?  Now, little kids have no idea where they are two blocks from here, so the idea of "country" isn't an easy concept especially if they haven't traveled.  Ask them what city they are in, and they will shout NOONITED STATES OF AMERICA!  Most don't know the street they live on due to moving or being shuttled around family members, but the word that works is "everybody".  What would you like for everybody?  And this is the part where they transform from all over the place to adorable.

Bicycles, video games, and toys ranked tops, peace which means no slugging your neighbor came in second, then came Keithan, who I had run into selling candy bars at the thrift shop the day before.  A six year old kid being sent around to sell candy by himself in a very large store; once his family saw me, they scooped him up and ran out of Dodge.  But his face lit up when it was his turn; "I want to take everyone to the beach."  Everyone.  He gets to play in the sand, swim, and be a child for a while;    when he produced that big grin, I knew there was happiness, a memory that may help carry him forward.

Another of my boys is battling a growing awareness of what his father wants him to be, a rough, tough fighter, and who he really is; a boy who loves beautiful princesses and playing with girls.  He tries to erase his feelings, and that's when trouble starts; it conflicts with his inner sense, and he slaps or hits the others, usually a girl.  This child just wants to live in a Disney movie, be the one in the blue gown whirling with a talking teapot.  His dream?  "I want everyone to see Santa.  Everyone gets a present." I melted, and now understand why he brings his mother's jewelry to school to give away.  That's a good wish, I said; it's very nice to wish someone to be happy.

Roger the Orange Cat is also going through his own desires of being King of the Wild Frontier and is slowly realizing that ain't happening in any of his nine lives.  He's been through hell; a severely broken hind leg, subsequent frostbite that took half of one ear while he was lying in a snowbank till found, and there are still unseen aches and pains healing inside.  Yet if I shake a finger at him, he sits up straight, puts his ears back, and squints with indignation at my intolerance of him dragging my socks about, climbing the cupboard to capture the plastic bag of catnip and tearing its living guts out, or trying to shove Kai out of her place.  I find objects moved, knocked over, or killed, like the plant he dragged out of its pot then barfed up on the rug.

For all his mischief and chest thumping, he's a love, an innocent, a sweetie who I suspect spent little time inside a home and therefore is catching up on learning.  While doing the dishes, I opened the oven door in order to store a frying pan; two seconds pass and there's an orange tail sticking out of the oven.  I have never had a cat jump in an oven.  I told him he would turn into gingerbread that I would use to build a jellybean-covered cottage in the woods if he didn't get his squirrely self out of there.  Roger thought it was a great fort that he would run his command from and said he wasn't leaving; I lifted him out, mindful of his crooked little leg.  I will find him a box to plot overthrow from.

Dreams come; some are realized, some fade, some become ongoing chapters of our stories or immense billboards with pink neon letters flashing, "What On Earth Were You Thinking?".  Don't worry, we all have a few of those, be glad for the movement they create; it foists decisions right in your face like a wagging finger which is a good thing.

Get thee to bed, then; turn out the day, sleep and wish.