Wishes, Horses, and Useful Wheels

July 22, 2021

My college roommate, Marni, had a condition called spinal muscular atrophy, which affects the major skeletal muscles. Marni's attitude was that her disability was mostly irrelevant, and the rest of the kids in our freshman dorm took their cue from her approach. Sure, she needed stuff handed to her, doors held, etc., but the accommodations quickly became part of the regular background noise of a college routine.

The guys across the hall from our room were the star players on our school's basketball team. They were boisterous, confident, fun, and not very good at academics. One day, a group of us were hanging out in the dorm's common room where Marni was helping Ben study for an algebra test. Ben, who needed a C+ average to keep his scholarship, started complaining: about the professor, the rules, everything. "I wish the <curse word> coach would mind his own <even worse curse word> business and get off my case."

Marni stared at Ben, then gestured at her wheelchair and said, “If wishes were horses, I'd be having a LOT more fun.” The room went silent, and a bunch of 18-year-olds suddenly grew up. I'm sure, decades later, that I'm not the only one who remembers the incident, or the lesson.

It was a lesson I took to heart as I launched into life, and then into parenting. There's no point in putting energy into wishing the world were different: You just have to deal, practically and realistically, with what you’re given. Kids are who they are, they can't grow faster than they can grow, they can't learn algebra before addition. The parenting journey—just like the life journey—is frustrating or elating or disappointing or satisfying by turns. Sometimes you find a horse, and that's great, but usually it's just you on your own feet—or, as in Marni's case, on some useful wheels. And, as she'd be the first to point out, you really do have everything you need for the trip.

—Deb