as a little girl i remember seeing wishbones on the kitchen counter. my mom would save them after using chickens for roasting or for soups. i'd see one drying for a few days and the anticipation of either her and i, or her and my brother holding either side, making a wish and braking it to see who got the center piece would just tickle me. whoever got the center piece of the wishbone got their wish granted. by who? i don't know. did it work? i don't know that either. i never made a wish. the mere act of taking part in this strange ritual was so exciting, that i could never have a wish made by the time my mom asked, "ready?" i was always ready for the participation in the wishbone brake, but never ready with a wish. i always answered with a yes anyway. i only ever got that center piece of the bone once that i can even remember. braking it always seemed a shame. all the excitement for me was placed in the anticipation. 'maybe she'll ask me to do the wishbone with her!' i'd always think. a few times i'd find it had disappeared and i ask about it. she'd say, "oh i did it with chuckie" and my heart would sink a little. not because she did it with chuckie, my older brother, but more so because it was gone. over. the anticipation of it all was gone. we weren't superstitious growing up but we did these funny things together that have stuck with me. this wishbone thing is one of them.
i have my own kitchen now and in it is a window with three very dried chicken wishbones and even one from a turkey, sitting on the sill. the first four birds i ever cooked on my own. my first four wishbones. their plenty dry and would be easy to brake. i've thought about starting the ritual with my kids. my son is four and my daughter is 1 1/2. mikey is old enough but every time i think about it, i say to myself, 'no not right now. besides, i don't even have a wish ready.' and that thought has made me so thankful. to have no wish. i have many wishbones and no wish. we are blessed. we have full bellies, a warm house,good health, love to spare and a loving Heavenly Father. this is more then enough. 'no,' i think to myself. 'i'll save these wishbones for a day when i have a wish to make.' thinking about it... it never was about the wish. it was the anticipation of it all. it was about the person who i did it with and that brief moment in time that we shared together. how could i keep such a charming memory to myself and not share it with my kids? their is a possibility for them to look back and say, 'my mom had this strange collection of wishbones, you'd think she was a witchdoctor.' or 'we had this great ritual at our house with wishbones...'
wish or no wish, i think tomorrow our pile of wishbones will need to be replenished.