Tuesday, December 13, 2011

This Life Has Arrived

It has been a year of uneven ground. Many smiles and many tears. Tears that tore the paper. The life plan drawn out with a marker. Smudged by tears, forcing a new plan to be composed. Like a new piano piece, just waiting to be born, in the place of the song I mistakenly thought was the soundtrack to my life, only to discover in was the introduction. Not the theme song.

A lot of life lessons have emerged, some difficult to swallow, while other lessons are ones that I have actually been waiting to realize. And perhaps I was secretly hoping that realization would escape the locked box, fly around the room like a disorientated bird, until it finds a gap and flies out the window, hitting others in the face, in the heart. Like a punch in the stomach, a wake up call. Set an alarm. This life has arrived.

The new chapter comprises of many sub chapters, too many too describe. Boxes, books, throw away that bag, you wont use that hat again I swear, did you buy enough, do enough, say enough, move enough, boxes, Christmas presents, present yourself well, sign the papers, take the car in, arrange your finances, boxes, breathe, look behind the door, look for encouragement, boxes, don't forget to


Although at times it seems like a terrifying experience, a high risk move, the truth is that if it wasn't worth it it wouldn't be done. It also wouldn't seem so attractive and exciting for the other 75% of the time. The terror is only linked to fear. Fear of failure, unhappiness. But if that is the case, I WANT that lesson if I am meant to have it. If this is not meant for my life and once again I am following the wrong soundtrack, then let me live through it to learn so that I can meet it face to face and know. It really is the only way to know - to try. And a part of me - the love part - is utterly fearless. I don't think there is anything I wouldn't try for love. Especially one I really believe is everlasting.

Don't get me wrong - I am not the lovesick woman wanting to be cared for by a man, cooking in my spare time, bun in the oven, both ovens, baking, cooking, feeding, bottles, perhaps another drink to get me through the screaming, how was your day honey, I made honey smoothies, cut my hair today, swept the hallway, halved Jamie's apple but he only ate a third.

That housewife - is not me.

I want kids. I want a beautiful house to turn into a home. Not a victim of love, but a strong believer of it. I don't want to be lying on my death bed cancelling appointments, can we reschedule that in my second life, tell Saint Peter I have a VIP card, worked hard all my life, made money, threw it at the poor, pretended I understood other people while sitting on my Louis Vuitton couch sipping martini's, cherries not olives.

Not a workaholic. Not a housewife.

Just me.
Moving in.
With my soulmate.

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