I have been pondering over this week’s writing challenge for a couple of days, whilst I tried to decide where to begin. After all, surely if I had one wish I would have to make it a great one. Something life changing or awe inspiring. Something so big it could impact on the globe.
No, that doesn’t feel like me. I mean, sure, world peace would be amazing. It would benefit millions of people, not just those in our own military who are out there risking their lives, separated from their families. Not just the families of the military, small children growing up without their parents. But it would be amazing for those families living in war torn countries, for women living in fear every day of being attacked. I wonder how women living in those conditions manage to find food for their children or put clothes on their bodies.
Which brings me to . . .
Ending world hunger.
Now that would be a wish worth making. I am in awe of the people who live in poverty stricken, famine ridden countries. Mothers who walk miles every day to obtain a bucket of dirty water to try to keep their starving children alive, who fight every day to find just one mouthful of rice to fill their empty bellies. We take so much for granted and I am often disgusted by the greed and waste of our society today.
I wish that I were able to make that wish, but I am too selfish for that.
So something more personal then.
Would I want to be a millionaire? If I won the lottery and had all the money I could ever need, what would I do with it?
I could buy the best house ever for my parents and send my kids to great schools. I could finish all the renovations on our own home and add a pool. Indoor. With steam room. I wouldn’t have to work, so would I have more time to be with my kids. Would being uber rich satisfy me?
Of course I don’t need oodles of dosh to spend more time with my kids. But somehow between working, cooking, keeping the house habitable and washing clothes, it seems so difficult to find time to play games and be silly, to have fun. So I am constantly feeling the guilt of not being the best mum I could be or should be. Perhaps I wish I were a super mum.
Constantly feeling like I am lacking in being a great mum is just one of the failures that batter at my confidence every day. I fail at being a world renowned success in my career. I suspect that this may partly be because I still don’t know, at 34, what the career of my choice would be. What do I want to do with my life? Should I wish I were a success?
I fail at being the best friend ever because I am blunt and impatient and feel it is incumbent on me to point out the ridiculousness of my friends actions and not just accept that it is their life choice to make without my judgement. I fail at being a perfect wife because I can be grumpy and snarl for no reason. Should I wish I were perfect? How dull!
Or beautiful? A perfect figure without lumps from over indulgence. Pert boobs, no longer pulled down by childbearing. Thighs that could crack nuts (I don’t know why I would want to do this, but I hear it’s the thigh to have). Legs that go on and on. Long silky hair, less frizzy and uncontrollable. Do I wish I were a stunner? Not really. That’s not my dream, although a few tune up’s here and there would be acceptable.
Would I like to fix mistakes from my past? To go back and change the actions that, although long ago, can leave me feeling shame and embarrassment even now. Or to ‘know then what I know now’ and do it better this time? I wish I were a teenager again? Shudder. Definitely not.
I wish I were more . . . imaginative? So that I could be an amazing writer, an award winning novelist. More caring? More patient? More daring? Stronger? Braver? Maybe I just wish I were more!
Can one wish make all our dreams come true? Can we change one thing about ourselves and improve everything in one go? In today’s consumer driven culture of always wanting more, what is the ultimate desire?
I think . . .
I wish I were . . .
Written for the DPchallenge!