I Wish I May, I Wish I Might...

... have this wish I wish tonight.

I want my mama.

My daughter turns eight-years old on Friday.  Eight.  Years.  Old.

I clearly remember being eight.  I remember my bedroom (yellow climbing roses that covered my bedspread and wallpaper, yellow tinted French-provincial furniture, yellow and brown shag carpet that always reminded me of Rice-a-Roni.)  I remember my favorite outfit (white knit pleated short skirt, matching white knit top with puffy sleeves and a black geometric pattern with rainbow hearts... hello... it was 1982.)  I remember my 8th birthday party (complete with a white layer cake iced with love by my mother with those gel icing things you could get at the grocery store - of a big fat rainbow and white puffy clouds.  I remember my favorite 8th birthday gift (a new Barbie doll, Ken, AND the purple corvette ... hello... it was 1982.)

But mostly I remember my mother's presence. Her smile and laughter.  Her touch when she smoothed my hair as she tucked me into bed at night.  Her ability to make sense of my blossoming awkward in-between years.

What I can't remember clearly is her voice.  It's getting lost in the fuzziness of my memory.

I want my mama.  I want to feel her touch on my hair.  I want to hear her voice.  I want to talk through the craziness that is my life - for assurance that we're making the right decisions.  I want her guidance.  Her counsel.  Her love.  Her advice on how to let my daughter go - just enough - without losing touch, and somehow managing to keep her close.

I want to share her namesake's birthday with her.  To see the two Giovannas smiling over a glowing birthday cake.  To see her eyes sparkle and dance when Anna tells her intricate tales and stories.  And I want to celebrate one of my child's birthdays without the cloud of darkness hanging over my head - that perpetual cloud of unfinished business, unsaid words, hurt feelings, broken hearts.

Mommy... I miss you so.  And wish, with every falling star and every birthday candle that you could be a part of our lives - and my family a part of yours.

I wish I may, I wish I might...