Skip to main content

Contradiction

I am that girl, the one who sits in the back row and doesn't meet your eye.

I am that girl, the one who looks busy reading or writing or something.  I'm focused on something that seems absorbing or important and I don't notice you noticing me.

I am that girl, the one who recognizes you.  But you don't recognize me and I don't remind you who I am.  I give a little smile and keep walking, hoping that you won't see my cheeks flame red, hoping I don't look afraid.

I am that girl, the one who abhores small talk and really stinks at making it.  I can never think of a relaxed and clever thing to say and so I usually say nothing.  Or even worse, I ask the same thing twice.

I am that girl, the one who is called 'quiet' or 'reserved.'  I've even been called 'stuck-up.' 

I am that girl, the one who didn't live up to all her potential.  The one who didn't finish school, who didn't walk the path expected, who happily settled into another life.

I am that girl, the one who admires what you're wearing and wishes she had the confidence to pull it off too.  But doesn't.

I am that girl, the one who doesn't want sympathy at all.  Who doesn't want any kind of attention.  Who would rather you thought everything was peachy keen.

I am that girl, the one who doesn't mind that you didn't stop by.  Who rather likes that you didn't stop by, actually.  Who doesn't want to talk on the phone, who replies to email so fast it's almost pathetic, who prefers one step of disconnect.


And yet, I am not that girl.  





Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

Fragmented re-introduction

I dreamed a dream once of what this would be like.  Of life.  Of patterns and songs and ticking off boxes to find my way. 

Trouble was, I keep looking at the wrong list.

This year's list:

- Turn 40 (check)
- Move again (check)
- Send the boy on a mission (check)
- Finish admin license
- Get lost (check)
- Get found (check)
- Lost again (check)

Wait, that went off track. 

Adulthood is a lot of getting off track.  And back on.  It's weird.

I thought at 40, I would have it all together.

But, I'm barely keeping it from falling apart. 

Weird.

So, this is me where I am now.

40, working, waiting.  My boy's on a mission in Boise.  My girl's 12 going on 20.  My husband hates his job most days, and loves it alternatively.  Same for me.  We live in a small town I don't like very much and dream of going somewhere else, but we don't know where that is. 

I want to be a writer, but I don't spend time writing.

I read something the other day that gave me hope: Guy Fieri…

On being away from home and turning sixteen: a letter to my son

Dear Josh,

I missed your sixteenth birthday.  I'm sure you recall - or maybe it wasn't so bad because you spent the whole day with your friend watching movies.  Godzilla and Guardians of the Galaxy, you've said.  It's no surprise to me that Godzilla was your favorite of the two.  That atomic green monster holds a special place in your heart.

It was very difficult for me to be away from you when you crossed this threshold in your life.  I remember turning sixteen, being sixteen, and wondering when I would feel like I was actually sixteen.  When I was sixteen, I went and found my first job, I started driving myself around, and I pretty much felt like I was in the wrong skin.  I'm only now, at 37, beginning to feel in the right skin.  Or at least comfortable with the skin I'm in.  But you - well, you don't seem to have a problem being you.  I can't explain how very happy that makes me feel, how very reassured.  Because it can be really hard not to like you…