When I was six I had exactly two goals in life, both of which were super. First, I wanted to be Wonder Woman. I mean who wouldn’t? She got to do all that fancy twirling when she changed clothes. Plus she had those kick-ass shoes! But I also wanted to be He-Man, because well, he had the power. Plus the sword was kind of nifty.
So how does a six year old with a healthy imagination realize her goal? I would sneak into my mom’s closet and pilfer her red pumps from Fava. I would roll out trusty red Hoover into the middle of the room. I’d slip those shoes on first. Then I’d grab the hose attachment and jam the stick down the back of my shirt. I would run around her room, Hoover following me. Twirling, yelling, wielding my cleaning sword in the air.
Not only was my imagination healthy, but so was my appetite. Something Dad and I shared. He worked in the family business and did not get the traditional weekends and vacation times like other fathers, but he always managed to make the most of the time he did get.
After dinner he would make a great show of preparing dessert. He could slice a melon, or a weird cheese, sometimes even a salami and make it look like the most delicious thing in the world. He would hum a little. Lick his lips. Kiss his fingers in that old school Italian way and say, “Saborit!”
We would pack into the car an go on a run. A drive that would end up at 7-Eleven drinking slurpees people watching. We would eat our ice cream in the parking lot of Carvel, watching the other customers. Trying to guess their orders. Other times it would be to various festivals where we would share zepolees and go on rides.
We didn’t have vacations. We had day trips, and they were far better. Mom would pack a cooler of sandwiches and snacks. We’d get in the station wagon and go. Sometimes it was to Rye Playland, where Dad used to go with his school as a boy. One time we even went as far as Lake George, because he was in the mood for ice cream. We drove five hours each way so he could take us to an ice cream shoppe he and mom went to while on honeymoon. We were only there for a couple of hours, but it was worth it, just to see him finish the 1lb cone.
Dad would have loved Doug. Solver of problems. Teller of stories. Prankster. Human map. Lover of all things Reese’s. Knows a guy. The way Doug’s eyes light up, the way he rubs his hands together when he sees a penne a la vodka come his way, is just like Dad with pretty much anything that was edible, lol.
When Doug was in the Fire Academy most of his nights and weekends were devoted to studying, but he always found time. To study together. To celebrate birthdays. Have family dinners. Play with our nieces and nephew. Take day trips out east to hit the outlets or to Pennsylvania to have dinner with friends. To patiently listen to me barf a weeks worth of wedding planning questions that I had been holding in all week.
I never became Wonder Woman. I can’t even stand in heels, let alone twirl in them. I also never became He-Man. In hindsight if running with scissors is a bad idea, running with swords probably is too, lol. No longer six and now forty, my wishes have changed. I no longer desire to fill a fictional role. I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a niece. I am a friend. I have become a wife. I have become an aunt. I hope to become a mother.
My thoughts via Daily Prompt: Desire