Make a wish.


This was Amelie at Make A Wish Foundation. They threw her a little “wish planning party” and it was darlingly fun. They put together this beautiful binder for her, It was labeled, “Amelies wishes.”  We sat there for a really long time… Playing, dreaming, hearing all kinds of things she would like to do.  We put all those ideas in that binder and took it home with us. She and I would go through it, and she could never pick just one idea, she wanted all of them of course!

   I recently found that binder in her room… and promptly threw it in the trash. I didn’t even think about it. It was more reactionary than anything else.   all I know is I didn’t want to even see it anymore. None of those wishes got to happen. Not Disneyland. Not Disney World. Not meeting any princesses. Not going to Cinderella‘s castle.  Or hosting a tea party on the beach. Or taking a train ride with her friends. Instead, She got a hot tub. And it wasn’t really her wish. It was the only thing we could think of. It was more of a freaking consolation prize.  A consolation prize for having a stroke, for losing the ability to talk, or use her legs, or swim.

All she could do was float in it while we held her, struggling not to drop her in the way in and out. Make A Wish Could not put a lift and ended up piece-mealing together some flimsy step that we nearly broke hers and our backs on, these freakin wobbly steps, lifting her in and out every time we wanted to use it, but, luckily daddy is 6’5”, 225lbs, and he’s the only one who was able to lift her out. I know she enjoyed being in it (not the transitions obviously) and we have enjoyed it together as a family in her memory since then. My husband is in it every day, almost without fail. So naturally we have to ship/transport it to wherever we move to next .... 

 If it were up to me, I would sell it. Not look at it anymore. Be done with it. Not have the memory of her once hopeful Make-A-Wish plan party be tarnished by the quadriplegic flotation tub consolation prize, costing me probably $1,000 (or whatever it’s going to cost to hire a crane and truck and electrician)  looming around our next house. But it’s not up to me. Brave loves it. Ayzia loves it. Hubbs loves it. Guests love it. So, then, it comes with us.