i wish. i wish i could say.

I wish.
I wish I could say.
I wish I could say that all the snow could be removed from the walk with a few, quick strokes of the broom. And that it wouldn't come back in even deeper drifts. That a 50 percent blend of Sulawesi and Yemeni beans made a perfectly piquant cup of French press. That all of the storm windows purchased last fall had been put on the house. And that the house was clean, or even organized.

I wish.
I wish I could say.
I wish I could say that the high-efficiency gas logs were just that; and that I could trust them not to suffocate me during the night if left on. That work was always fulfilling. That going home for the holidays wasn't always steeped in television, alcohol, and racism.

I wish.
I wish I could say.
I wish I cold say that impetuosity didn't drive so many of my decisions. I wish Caroline would take off her glasses, squint, and say "yummy goodness" after dinner. That writing was effortless. That the snow was deep enough for skis. Or better yet, snowshoes. That I was less judgemental, more temperamental, more forgiving.

I wish.
I wish I could say.
I wish I could say that all the time spent reading books had made me a better person; better than not having spent that same time among people. That I knew with certainty just one of the following: that I was attractive, charming, or interesting to H., whom I meet last week and who hasn't returned my phone call.

I wish.
I wish I could say.
I wish I could say that my mother was still alive. That her death hadn't affected me so. That my father had always been so sweet. That I was less familiar with addiction. That I had spent more time in church; that I wasn't an atheist. That a year, month, or even a week went by that I didn't say to myself, 'you're crazy.'

I wish.
I wish I could say.
I wish I could say that I knew the bounds of gravity and had overcome them. At least once. That the strong attraction wasn't always so strong and that we could release it and walk through walls. That we could remember each others name. That someone might stop by unexpectedly.

I wish.
I wish I could say.
I wish that I could say how proud I was to know you. That you are accomplished. And smart. And that you make me smile. That I miss you. That I long to hold you again. That there was a cure for lung cancer.

I wish.
I wish I could say.
I wish I could say that I was in the clear, out of the woods, and on my way. That there was a better way. A better way to say it. But there doesn't appear to be. Not today. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after, or next year, but not today.

I wish.
I wish I could say.

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Peace, Joy, and a New Year to you. All the love.