My Dream August 12, 2009

I was recently posed the question: What is your dream? Wow – I had to really think about that.

When I was a kid, I dreamt of all kinds of things. A new idea of what to do, or be, or create popped into my head every other minute and usually had something to do with horses, unicorns, castles, or anything sparkly – the Bedazzler had nothing on me. But the things we dream of as children are often so fanciful that we abandon them in our rush to grow up, lest we be viewed as a child a moment longer than we find comfortable. Too often, most of us (myself included) slog about, bogged down in our daily trials and find it hard to even remember what dreams captivated us so very long ago. But the lucky among us hold tight to those dreams, even if only to smile at the memory of them. When we get older, our dreams are usually very different and much more serious because we are busy with the oh-so-serious business of being an adult.

For a long time in my grown-up life, besides the obvious of having a home, a good job, and a happy marriage, I had the grown-up dream of having a daughter. This dream was fully developed, complete with bouncing brown curls, ruffle tights, and a name — Nora. When life brought me two sons I was confronted with having to give up that dream. I could never have known that the loss of one dream was necessary to bring me another — these two very different but equally delicious boys — who bring me more pure joy than I could have ever imagined.

When I wrote about boxing up the dream of having a little girl, the words found me. They poured out as if I had turned on some imaginary tap in my mind, emotions overflowing as my fingers danced over the keyboard and struggled to keep up. I haven’t written anything since then, telling myself that it’s because life is just too hectic, and when things slow down I’ll write about the boys. But perhaps closer to the truth is that when I think about writing about these two little gifts that life gave me, I’m afraid I won’t find the words, and they won’t find me. After all, Nora Who Wasn’t won’t read those words, but if I write about my boys, I will have a real live audience whose review could crush me in a second.

So beyond the dreams for stuff and things, for futures and possibilities, I dream of words. Words that are right. Words that tell the story in my heart. Words that will erase the memories of bad days/bad moods/times I had to raise my voice/ timeouts/disappointing dinners… Words so brilliant and weighty that someday when my little boys are men, they will read them and know what a gift it is to be their mother.

These words I seek will somehow find a way to jump off the page, reach inside them, and fill their bodies with the things I have felt. One paragraph will brim their eyes with tears and make their hearts beat wildly like mine did the first time I held them, saw them smile, and heard a first word. The next will make them laugh out loud like I did when they insisted on dancing naked or said something profoundly hysterical, sometimes at the same time. The words will create in them the same feelings of otherworldly pride and delight that make it a moral imperative for me to tell both friends and random strangers about the incredibly funny/smart/wild/sweet thing they did (um, yes, even if I’ve told them the story before). They will warm them with the gratitude I feel when my boys remind me of my childhood dreams as we explore their imaginations. And finally, the words will pump their adrenaline into that crazy, feral, mother-bear place that makes this usually fairly docile lady not hesitate to say ‘step off b*tch’ to anyone even thinking of threatening my cubs.

So, my dream? It is to one day find these magical, elusive words that have the power to transform my experiences as a mother into a captivating love note to my boys. Really, it will be a thank-you note, for the privilege of having been not just a Mommy, but their Mommy. And when I do finally write it, I’m going to put it in a Bedazzled frame and hang in on their fridge, just like all of the heartfelt treasures that have been hung on mine.