Life is a coin. You can spend it any way you wish, but you can spend it only once.
Remember that old Jim Croce song. It's been playing in my head lately. If I had a box just for wishes and dreams that would never come true, what would it be filled with?
My mother would tell me, when I said "I wish" if wishes were horses then beggars would ride. Maybe that's how I ended up with so many horses, that's where my wishes went.
My mother. I have wondered about people who have close, loving relationships with their mother. It's a totally foreign concept to me. My poor mother who never felt she was able to get past the shantys of Ireland, the Ireland of the time of her parents. The harsh, unforgiving, starving Ireland.
Mother was a teenage bride to an older, dominate man from a family that looked down on her heritage and her religion. My father took her religion from her, but no one was ever able to take her sense of inferiority from her. Marrying into a family that constantly pointed it out surely did not help.
So she took refuge in a smoldering rage. She hid her emotions away and only displayed a no nonsense front. No dreams, no wishes. This is what you are and this is what you'll stay. Her shield of survival. She was never as tough as she portrayed herself to be, but as a child you don't know that. You only know what you see and experience.
Like her mother before her, she was a much better grandmother then mother. My mother opened up some for my son and I am grateful for this. For her sake.
I was going to write some little piece about wishes and instead I came to the topic of my mother. I don't know how that happened, but I think I'll let it stay. I know my mother has a trunk full of wishes and dreams that will never come true. I'm sad for her. I let the lingering anger go long ago and now I wish she could have a wish and a dream come true. But the old, dominant man she pledged her troth to is still controlling her destiny and old habits will not be broken.