A Book of Wishes

 Growing up in the 1960's and 70's, who doesn't remember filling up their quick-saver books with sticky strips and sheets of S&H Green Stamps? After every grocery shopping trip, my parents would toss the earned stamps in a basket on top of the old Hotpoint fridge, the kind with the door handle that would snap back and pinch your little  fingers if you weren't careful. Once a month my sisters and I would take on the job licking and pasting, dreaming of all the wonderful things we'd be able to get for "free" as a reward for feeding a family of nine.

We kept the Ideabook in the magazine rack next to the sofa, along with the Sears catalog, Good Housekeeping, Ladies Home Journal, and random articles my Dad had cut out of religious pamphlets to read later, usually in the bathroom.  Every once in a while I'd take out that sacred book and pour over images of dolls, trains, wagons and bicycles. Unlike the Sears catalog, full of toys and clothes we couldn't afford on a minister's salary, the green stamp book offered a promise of something within reach. I could see myself holding that doll, riding that bike, pulling that wagon. If only we filled enough books.

But it was never to be. My mom always traded the stamps for flatware. I remember the pattern, a swirly line with sparkly stars on either side of the spoon handle. They looked pretty on our

Sunday dinner table set with the "good" china and drinking glasses we fished out of detergent boxes. (Our family went through a lot of detergent.) As an adult I've stopped longing for shiny things and expensive toys. I drive a sixteen-year-old car, shop at thrift stores, and live in a 500 square foot home by choice. I prefer living a simple life abundant with the joy of immaterial goods. If there was a catalog for my yearnings it would be for continued good health, delicious foods, great books, my morning espresso, and a place to share my writing. Every blank page is like an Ideabook that I get to fill with my stories! Looking back I now  realize it was never about getting the thing, it was the hope that filled you from the wishing itself. 

What about you? What's in your "idea book" today? If you could wish for one thing for yourself, what would it be? And how do you plan to turn your dreams into reality?

Shameless plug: My debut novel THIS I KNOW features a clairvoyant preacher's daughter who comes of age at the turn of the culturally-explosive decade of the 1960's. It's available for pre-order and you can add it to your Goodreads wish-list.