Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo

cinderellaPhotobucketFairyGodmotherBibbidyBobbityIf a Miracle Occurred

If a miracle occurred, I’d be able to write the book of my heart, and people would love it, and it would heal them a little, somehow.

If a miracle occurred, all of our children would get along all the time, and never ever have struggle or strife, for the rest of their long, healthy and happy time on this brutiful planet, because they would miraculously turn out to live far better, sane, productive and loving lives than we ever did. In spite of all of us. And in spite of the world.

If a miracle occurred, I would never need to drink wine to feel good and relaxed and happy. If a miracle occurred I’d be one of those people that could enjoy a single glass of wine, and not want to keep filling the glass every time it was empty, just because I love the sound, look, taste, and positive associations of it so damned much.

If a miracle occurred, I could talk and write without swearing or ever saying a negative word and things would still seem as meaningful somehow.

If a miracle occurred, I would spend my day doing something much more intrinsically present, useful and “natural,” such as sitting under a tree talking with my kids, than sitting here with my laptop reading or typing, which seems to come more naturally.

If a miracle occurred, my kids would actually want to be sitting under that tree, communing with nature and with me, rather than staring at screens while they scroll, type or click. If a miracle occurred, each time I said “Hey guys, let’s all go for a walk/do some yard work/clean the toilet/cook a healthy meal together” my kids would jump for joy like it was ice cream time AND the YouTube guy was coming over to do simulated gaming with them.

If a miracle occurred, the belongings of my entire family (including me) would be at least as organized and tidy as my own belongings used to be all those OCO (Obsessive Compulsive Orderliness, as T. affectionately called it) years ago, when I had no belongings but my own to look after. If a miracle occurred I could still be that OCO wonder woman while experiencing my midlife crisis-I-mean-transformation.

If a miracle occurred, I would never feel the need to hang on to anything. Not the jeans that are too small for me now, not the jeans that are too big for me now, not the kids’ daily piles of fresh artwork, not boxes and cabinets of badly organized school papers and home accounts files, not the bins of baby clothes I can’t bear to part with. And not my 80’s Barbie bubble-bath-with-shower set which no one in this über-male-populated house seems to want to play sensibly with, damn it.

If a miracle occurred, a fairy godmother would appear, wave a magic wand, say “Bibbidy bobbidy boo,” and all of a sudden every item in we own would be perfectly tidy and organized and findable. EVERY SINGLE ITEM. And in between, there would be miles of empty clean floors and windows with a view of the ocean. Because she would also give us a spacious modern waterfront magazine-worthy mansion in-the-country-but-near-the-city-and-close-to-all-our-friends. And because she would give all our friends one too.

If a miracle occurred I would still have real-life close friends living within strolling distance.

If a miracle occurred, my kids would say to me, “Mom, please don’t ever bother with maintaining our old stuff. I don’t care about our old stuff and never will, not even ten, twenty, fifty years from now. I’ll never wish I had that old stuff, not even if I turn out famously successful one day and people want to write my biography, and/or not even if I find myself in therapy trying to piece together what happened to my so-called life, or researching the lives of my ancestors. Instead I’ll be glad that you spent time with us telling stories, instead of archiving old stuff. And maybe, partly because of that, I’d have the luck not to turn out famously successful nor in therapy, but just blessedly well-balanced and averagely content.” And most importantly, they’d still feel the same way ten, twenty, fifty years later.

If a miracle occurred, my kids would not have to go to a school, each day, where the teachers are overworked and underpaid, and so are the students and their parents, and people seem to pick on and criticize each other a lot.

If a miracle occurred, I would live at a Zen monastery, and all my day would be doing basic simple chores, exercise, creative work, meditating to the sound of that blessed bell, and communing with my sisters & brothers, true nature and the present moment, while attempting to bring the same state of contented bliss to all beings. And my kids and husband would be there, too, doing the same.

If a miracle occurred, my husband would never again need to have sex (while remaining in perfect health, of course!), but both of us might want it every now and then, and always at the same time. Or never. Maybe we’d both be so spiritually in tune that all our orgasms would be the kind that happen at the soul level. But we’d still hug and hold hands a lot. And maybe occasionally jump on a trampoline together, laughing our a$$es off. And he would never bounce me too high, but just high enough; and I would never feel like I might pee a little.

If a miracle occurred I would stop desperately wanting to be a writer and I would instead write, or not write.

If a miracle occurred I would not need to write at all, in order just to keep breathing.


Image: Disney’s Cinderella.

Inspired by this question: “What would your world look like if a miracle occurred? What would that miracle be and how would it change things?” — Udemy

Inhaling & exhaling words & images from current vantage point in Zone of Emptiness, France. If you wish to contribute and/or show appreciation, please like/share and/or comment. Thank you for reading. 🖤

2 thoughts on “Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s