I Wish I May, I Wish I Might

He never called.

J, the suddenly-changed-wants-to-get-to-know-the-older-me-ex-step-dad.

The one who promised when he got back from Yellowstone would give me a call.

He never did.

He's been home two days. Maybe, it's just too early yet.

Maybe work was rough.

I don't know.

I think I was just too excited. That I wanted that relationship again too badly. I think, somewhere where my sub-conscious dreams and fantasizes, was a remembered life of card games and goodnight hugs. Maybe that dream leaked out into my mind, latching into forgotten memories:

One hand on my neck, the other pointed at a huge clock on the mantle. Wide eyes, blue, eager to understand and make him so proud of me. 
 "What number is the V, Grace? Come on, you know this.."
"Uhm..." A quick glance around the face of the clock, counting in my mind...
"Five, Daddy. V means five." His huge hand, clapping me on the shoulder.
"Good job! That's it!" 

The room is dark with candles scattered around, flickering lights on the ivory of each young student's gi, and on every teacher's.  My heart hammers as one finger traces the outline of my white belt. Behind me, my mom and my real dad sit, watching. J--the daddy of my heart, kneels at the front of the room. His gi is spotless white, starched into stiff perfection; his black belt is tied neatly, showing clearly the three little ticks that mark him a true expert. My name is called, and everyone watches me go to him and bow. With quick motions, he divests me of the old belt, and replaces it with the next step up, a yellow. Neither of us speak, but I imagine I see pride gleaming alongside candle lights. 

Quick wind, hair blown back, hot excitement as the the go-cart makes another lap. J..Dad..he's in the driver's seat, while I hold tight to the edge of the passenger's. Another dad and his kid try to pull up beside us, but Daddy throws the pedal down and whips around in front so that they can't pass.
"Haha!" He crows, and I laugh with delight. "You're playing with the big dogs now!" 

"Dad, that's not fair. You can't win every single time," I gripe, throwing my cards down in frustration. 
"Sure, I can," he shrugs. "If you can't beat me, I can win til ya do."
"Some dads let their kids win. I think it's probably in some dad handbook somewhere." 
"But,then, you'd never know if you actually beat me. What's the fun in that?"

Christmas lights, tangled around the perfect pine. Only one small flattened part, where we laid it in the back of the truck, but that part's turned to the corner, so no one can see. It's been four hours since we brought it home, and each ornaments and light string was hung with the utmost care and mutual discussion--lest we hang something wrong. Now, a fire blazes beside, casting faint glows on both the tree and the cream carpet. It's our moment; my favorite of Christmas. He and I--we did that together. 

And, maybe when I woke, I carried those dreams and memories forward, desperate to hope he was going to want to get that back, the same as I did.

Steven's been worried about that--that I'm looking to get my daddy back, and that it won't happen. I think I would have settled for a call of any kind, even one to cancel.

I guess he just forgot.

But, you know--then again...

Maybe work was rough.

Maybe his wife needed to talk to him.

Maybe his flight was delayed, and he's not back yet.

This doesn't mean he WON'T call...just that he hasn't..

After all, there's still a lot of stars for me to count on, outside my window. And, if I just wish hard enough...

Maybe, tomorrow, he'll call.

 










I wish I may
I wish I might
Have this wish
I wish Tonight..