Before I could even answer, his eyebrows wrinkled. "Hey, wait. You don't have any presents under the tree."
"True," I admitted. He must have checked every package ten times already.
He shrugged, said, "Then I guess you won't feel anything," and walked off. Already a sensitive boy.
I could have explained that I really feel too old to get a bunch of Christmas presents. I could explain that my husband detests being surprised, and while I like being surprised, I also hate presents (in general), mainly because they were a guilt-ridden ploy for love in my childhood.
But I do want things. Okay, not things, but things.
I want a novel published. This is my most selfish of wishes, but it is one nonetheless. I won't get it for Christmas. I can't even guarantee I'll get it by the end of next year, or ever.
I want to be a better writer, and to spend more time writing. One is directly connected to the other, but I continually face the nasty voices in my head telling me that my writing will never get any better (and that it's pretty lame to begin with). The voices make me reluctant at times to face the computer, even to write a blog, and they attack the other idea as well, that practice will improve my skill. This wish is directly related to the one above.
I want my son to adjust to school in a happier way. I can't make that happen, but I am doing what I can to help him.
I want people who are out of work to get jobs. Sure, I'd like something full-time, but I can handle it because my husband provides well. Still, it would be so much better if people who are out of work are employed. They'll be happier, more productive, and they'll make the rest of us happier, too.
I want people to be truly happy. Not just friends, either. I'm just fine with not so great people being happy, for their happiness may make them nicer. I am convinced that most mean people are mean because they are hurt inside and cannot resolve their own unhappiness.
What is it you most want? I'd love to know...