I’m having a conversation right now with a four year old, who also happens to be my roommate for this extended weekend trip. It is way past his bedtime, but nonetheless he’s lying in the twin bed next to mine telling me right now how “awesome” his grandparents (my parents) are. He just said that he’s “busy sleeping right now.” I feel the need to rush this post so my tap-tap-tapping doesn’t prevent him from doing just that.
I was standing in the driveway of the cottage we’re renting with my mother earlier this evening and I was suddenly overcome with this need for my life to just feel easy for a little while. We happen to be vacationing in a place that seems to be all about couples, heterosexual weddings and money. And here I am unemployed and bunking with my nephew. It’s hard sometimes to remember that I have damn good reasons for making the choices I have in my life. It’s much, much easier to drown in self-pity and fear.
The truth is, sometimes I do wish I was like everyone else. An even deeper truth is that I probably am exactly like everyone else and I’m just not ready to admit it yet. I want to be special but in a way that doesn’t make me feel alone. I want to feel like I belong while also standing out. I want an easy but extraordinary life.
My roommate has started to snore softly. Coming from a four year old, it’s pretty endearing. It’s making me think about love–both the love I already have in my life and the love I feel is absent. I feel like I should be grateful for what I have and stop at that. Isn’t that what an Oprah’s book club book would tell me? But for me, it doesn’t stop there. I am grateful and I want more.