As one of my good friends gears up to have her first child this summer, I’ve been thinking a lot of my own dreams for starting a family. Regardless of having a significant other in my life presently or tomorrow, I’ve always dreamed of being a mother, with the option of adoption. I’m not sure what it is, but I’ve seen how hard my own mother has worked over the years in raising one son and two daughters—one who grew gravely ill too; and with everything I’ve learned and seen, I always think, “Well, that’s something for me.” I know children are a huge responsibility and it boils down to maturity (I’m still someone who sings in an operatic manner while washing dishes) and realism, but I anticipate the day I get to become a mom.
I love kids. I’ve always loved children. I loved babysitting growing up, changing diapers; the smell of a baby, all of it. I love their little tiny smiles and how they light up even the darkest of rooms. You can learn a lot from children—how much patience you have, for instance. I’m someone with a lot of patience and I’m proud of that fact. Patience is not just a form of action—it’s a beautiful thing because it makes us pay attention and gain wisdom from circumstances.
In a few short weeks I will be heading to a baby shower and lately, shopping for baby clothes has me remembering what I wrote in my diary when I was twelve years old. I wrote how I would be married by 21 to my best friend, we’d travel abroad, and then when the time was right, have kids and invite them into our little club house because they would be our new best friends. I even named my future kids, with the hopes of having a son named Joseph Roland (who we’d call Junior or JR), and two daughters named Sophie and Molly. Well, I never got married at 21 and never really got to travel abroad, but I still have the dream of being a mom and that’s something that I’m going to hold on to tightly. Relationships may fail, but I’ll always have “St. Judy’s Comet.”
You see, “St. Judy’s Comet” is a song by Paul Simon, and every time I hear it, no matter how mangled my life is at the moment, I will always think about how beautiful this would be as a lullaby. I’m not a great singer. I’ve only ever sang twice—once for an audition in the failed Grade 6 production of the “Granny Awards”, singing “Say You’ll Be There” by the Spice Girls, and once more to the love of my life on a snowy December night a few years ago while we lay in bed. As silly as it sounds, Simon’s song is hope for this broken heart. Children make life more interesting in the facet that they have you dig deeper into yourself, while making you realize how much more love is in you than you could ever imagine. I may not be someone special to someone like him, but I know I would make a great mom one of these days because I have superb examples found in my mother and sister, who have the biggest and brightest hearts I know.
Time and patience will be my greatest armor when anticipating “St. Judy’s Comet” one of these days.
Won’t you run come see St. Judy’s Comet
Roll across the skies
And leave a spray of diamonds
In its wake
I long to see St. Judy’s Comet
Sparkle in your eyes
When you awake