THE IMPOSSIBLE
WISH
Terri
DelCampo
Chris looked
almost as resplendent as Andrea, my best friend, as he twirled her around the
dance floor. I smiled, watching her
wedding dress float along with them, securely pinned in the back because the
buttons I, as Matron of Honor had warned her about, had popped open during
Daddy’s dance.
I looked from
Andrea and Chris over at Christine, my fellow bridesmaid and blossoming friend,
and said, “I wish I had one of those.”
“What, a gaping
wedding dress?”
“No. A brother.
He’s so sweet and he looks out for her and is probably a better friend
to her than you and I and all the rest of her girlfriends put together.”
“What about a
sister?”
“Not the
same. Sisters can be rivals. Brothers tease but are loyal and usually
protective, even if they’re younger.
It’s just different. I’ve always
wanted one, I still do.”
“Well, you know,
maybe someday.”
“Yeah right. You think my mom’ll find a prince to thaw her
out or what?”
We chuckled as
Andrea and Chris finished their dance.
“Zippers are
wonderful things.” I chided with a grin
as the bride walked off the dance floor.
“It’ll save Jim
time later on,” she kidded right back.
“Not the way I pinned that sucker!” I nudged Christine, who laughed heartily, but
Andrea had missed it, already out of earshot.
I watched Chris
lead his mother onto the dance floor and continued wishing, knowing that the
Great Spirit has a way of listening to things you feel without thinking.
A few months later
my eighteen year marriage quietly fell apart, leaving me with an awkward
friendship with my soon-to-be-ex-husband, and two teen-aged sons who still
liked name brand sneakers and wasting electricity. So I, after taking a year off and maxxing out
my VISA, decided it was time to get off my ass and get back to work. I needed it.
Andrea had faded out of my life because she thought since her husband
and my ex were best friends dinner parties might be a little tedious, my
mother’s on-again-off-again snit was on again, the kids had friends occupying
most of their free time. I had the dog
to talk to. She’s an affectionate little
thing but she doesn’t quite get my jokes, you know?
So out the door I
went.
I loved going to
work because the people there appreciated my off-beat sense of humor, mostly,
while displaying those of their own. The
laughter de-zombified me, at least until I got home each evening.
Once there I would
get through the dinner hour with the kids, then retire to the back porch with a
book, seldom even opening it, just sitting in my hammock chair and staring at
the trees in the back of the yard, or watching the moon’s slow arc into the sky
and upward over the house and out of sight.
My spirit was re-injected into Zombieville nightly and I didn’t care for
it to be otherwise.
One day at work I
made a smart-assed comment to a crony. I
heard a masculine chuckle from a nearby cubicle and smiled. “Only a true
sarcastic soul would have laughed at that,” I said, “welcome, friend.”
I received my
first e-mail from “Sir Phil” that day, addressed to “Lady Terri,” and so began
a string of e-mails as we wove a raucous and romantic medieval soap opera
casting all unsuspecting office personnel as lords, ladies, peasants, crones,
dragons and other frightful beasts as they constantly provided material. Work became a joy and I almost couldn’t wait
to get there with a great tangent of the soap opera in my mind with which to
tantalize Sir Phil.
Eventually, for
fear of management monitoring our electronic emissions, Phil and I switched to
paper communiques. It turned out to be
quite a therapeutic thing for me.
Instead of staring into the darkness every night until bedtime, I darted
upstairs to my desk after dinner to write letters to “Sir” Phil on my lap top
that I hadn’t used to write a word in almost two years.
Now, when I
re-read the letters on my computer, I realize that Phil came into my life at a
time when I was as close to the brink of insanity as I’ve ever been. The letters (500 plus pages worth in a year!)
provided me with a creative outlet as I honed my writing skills again. Phil listened and listened as I poured my
heart and soul out to him, always responding with just the right blend of
humor, sarcasm and compassion.
Soon we became
good friends outside of work and discovered many common interests, plus, that
he had an understanding of my spirituality, which amazed me. I didn’t have to get into long-winded
explanations with him as I did other friends, he already knew. We shared other interests also, crafts,
reading, movies, and so on. He made me
laugh, cry, care, love again, just when I thought my life would be forever
devoid of such emotion. And in addition
to that he teased me and kept me forever just a tiny bit off-balance…like a
brother would.
I will always
consider him my best friend and savior, for he is both, but more, I call him my
brother, because he is exactly what I’ve always wished for. I thank the Great Spirit for sending him to
me each and every time I pray.
Having Phil in my
family proves two things to me. One, that the Great Spirit reaches right into
my heart and knows and cares about my most fervent prayers, and two, that even
the most impossible wishes can come true.
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