Be Careful What You Wish For

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Inspired by “I wanted to be” Mark Kelly Smith

I wished I could be a veterinarian, to hold sick animals in my arms and make them well again. 

I wished I could go home to my Barbie Townhouse with the elevator that went up and down on a string and the camper van with the pop-up roof parked out in front, and has limitless wardrobe choices and fun. 

I wished I could be the smart one, who could write quicker than anyone else, type furiously, and save the day.

I wished I could be Marlo Thomas one That Girl and go to cocktail parties with my boyfriend Donald wearing a fabulous silver lamé dress with matching high-heeled sandals and oversized hoop earrings.

I wished I could be the one who didn’t need anyone else in my life to be okay.

I wished I could be a star – a highly sought-after singer, dancer, actress, model, glamour goddess who stole the show wherever she went and made all the other girls jealous. 

I wished I could be the boss of a company and sit in meetings all day and make big decisions and tell people what to do, and have them fear me a little bit. 

I wished I could be Mary Tyler Moore, tossing my hat up into the air and spinning, spinning, spinning, knowing that it would all come back to me like a boomerang.  I wanted to be the competent one in the company of quirky-but-loving co-workers -- a family of sorts, accepting on another’s idiosyncrasies, except I didn’t want to have any. 

I wished I could be the girlfriend of a famous rock star and wear funky Bohemian hats and blouses from Morocco and feather boas and tight jeans with tall boots and travel in the back of a private bus. 

I wished I could be someone’s wife and have his babies, and have them all need me so badly that I would be like the sun in the center of their universe, the source of gravity that held everything together.

I wished I could be an artist like Georgia O’Keefe and take all my paints and my books and my ceramic pots and go live by myself someplace in the middle of and the desert where no one could bother me, and they would only appreciate me after I died, and then they would all feel guilty.

I wished I could start over from scratch and just take off my enormous backpack and my heavy boots and just lay there in the dirt for a few minutes, feeling the sun on my face without worrying about sunburn or tick bites or whether I could get cell reception.

I wished I could just want to be where I was for a second.