kinda like shooting the moon

14 08 2007

we’re always told to be careful what we wish for, and we’ve all heard tales about wishes made with imprecision and the unexpected ways they can come true, always to the (at least apparent) detriment of whomever did the wishing. i’ve been thinking a lot lately about the opposite of the lesson in those stories, though.

i know that i made wishes for these things i have in my life right now: a baby to wheel around these precious uneven-sidewalked streets; a kitchen to dance in with his warm, sleepy weight against me while a man i adore keeps that baby’s blue-eyed attention with the quiet melody of spanish music on a right-at-hand guitar; a close friend standing in the partner-space who hangs on to me when everything’s too much; a home folks feel welcomed in at any time of night or day; a neighbor’s porch i can sit on to gossip while the kids coo in arms and run rings of playing-batman around our chairs; a friends’ house i can key into to leave gifts on the table and take treasures from the fridge; a hand to hold when there’s nothing to be done but cry; a girl (or two!) who have my back and crow and laugh about it; friends i don’t have to ask permission to call “family.”

i know, too, that if i’d been more specific when i made those wishes, i’d have expected different faces filling many of the roles, & a lot of the ones i’d have asked for are faces that no longer feature in this tale. i know i thought that by now the baby would be mine, and that the partner-space and the guitar-holder would be the same person–and most likely the one responsible for the presence of the baby! and if i’d been so careful as to want precisely the versions of these pretty little pictures that i could have imagined at the time, i’d be bereft and disappointed, because what i thought i knew about the world could never have predicted where i am. for the record, then, despite the adage, i’m really grateful to the open-endedness of hope and dream and aspiration. because i’m really, really lucky for the things i have, and so lucky not to have missed them by looking too precisely for what seemed like the more likely versions. [2011 edit: in this version, the baby in the stroller and falling asleep on my shoulder to Paul’s guitar was Vasaris, the porch was Annabel’s, that baby Escher & kids Jonas & Adrian, the partner-space-holder was Shawn, the apartment was his-and-Holly’s, and the girls were probably Holly and Claire, although of course: girls. That’s the part that fades the fastest, and seems the most imagined once it’s gone.]

so even knowing that it takes a storm, & sometimes the destruction leaves scars that will never, ever fade, here’s to the windfall.

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5 responses

14 08 2007
donnickcottage

Beautiful. Congratulations lass. You hit the perception jackpot.

15 08 2007
pictsy

There still seems to be a whiff of disappointment in there though.

15 08 2007
tyra

well, duh, darling, people are liars and people are fools and people are dead, so, yeah, parts are disappointing. but there’s no getting away from liars and fools and death; the trick’s pouring energy into the treasure-hunt of finding all the stuff you thought was stolen, & brightening the hell out of disappointment’s aura by shining in a little of that eureka-glee of (re)discovery.
or at least that’s this morning’s chipper hallmark version; catch me under the influence of less caffeine and i might be a bit more blue about it, but, hey, it takes a rainbow. 😛

15 08 2007
pooh_gal

i’ve long believed that family is what you make it. sometimes that includes people related to you by blood or law, and many times it doesn’t. and it wouldn’t be family if it didn’t include some losses and some rough spots. but despite those, it’s a great joy to be able to surround yourself with people who feel like family and live that way.

15 08 2007
appalachienne

And that’s why, Miss Tyra, I haven’t a doubt in my doubt-filled mind, you will be happy.
I think I told you, much of the reason we gave Escher his name, was in homage to the optical illusion that is life, particularly when we think there’s something we know.
Oh, and one of my dreams has always been to have neighbors whom I also call friends, whom I also call family, and the lines between the three become so blurred in my psyche, they come to mean the same thing.
I hate that people I love, or was just starting to love, have to leave my life sometimes, MUCH more often than seems necessary. But when I let go, and look around me, I always find there are others to fill the holes in my heart.

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