I look around at the wildflowers here, in this normally desolate and thirsty display of nature, and I nearly want to weep at the depth of petals and the vivacity of color around me. The bluebonnets, Indian Paintbrush, and countless other flora around me that I can not name. I sigh and think, this is what the song says about May. But, all of my past experiences with a Texas May have shown me humidity, 90 degrees and rising, and everything turned to a burnt, scorching yellow. As I sit on my porch in a sweater, this early risen Sunday morning, I am so grateful for the perfect stretch of Spring that continues on.I find myself in a place in my life where I am thinking about things never once thought upon (at least not in a real way) before. Usually, I was either experiencing online-dating travesties worthy of some type of rambling memoir, traveling aimlessly with some illness, or fumbling in a career where you never will feel finished or that you've done enough. It is strange, then, to find myself with the same, wonderful man for 8 months now. To go to work and have at least a few moments where I see improvement in myself, and then to go home knowing I have finally, after five years of inconsistent bursts of labor, closed in upon the end stage of my book.
I guess 26 (nearing 27) is a strange but beautiful place in your life. Sex and the City tells me I am hopelessly young and need to experience more, while small-towns and archaic literature and films tell me I am old and may die alone. I watch marriages flourish and fail, careers die and others go back to school again, and I know that I am in a part of life that is constantly changing. At this age, you are somewhere between missing getting crazy downtown, to finding dive bars closer by, and realizing that it's Saturday night and you just want to cuddle with your boyfriend and his dog on the couch with a glass (ahem...or two) of wine.
The other night I told my dearest friend, H, that I felt so lame for leaving downtown early with some of my single friends in order to go snuggle with my boyfriend in Pflugerville of all places. How could I want to leave music, the bright white lights and energy of a city to go sixteen miles north to a sort of ghetto suburbia? Well, I guess that's what love is. H just sort of laughed and said, "Welcome to my life," in that way she does that is somewhere between a delightful laugh and sigh of relief that we are almost on the same page. She is used to me being the single gal who loves scouting for guys at pubs and who somehow has texts at 2a.m. from guys I swear I never gave my number to.....these days though, I am cooking salmon burgers and rice in the kitchen of Joey's house, listening to the copious amounts of oil he put in the pan pop and wondering how Monday nights got to be so lovely.
I hear my 8th grade students mumblings sometimes, their precious fears of "What comes next?" They are filled with that same fear that I have felt of late, that things are changing, that the time of selfishness has perhaps been slowly waving goodbye to you for some time now. I watched my lovely co-worker K's belly rise, like a wonderful baked good, and then yesterday, I met that perfect pink baby Q. I can not convey the light that shined in her cheeks, that glow of motherhood that wraps itself around that soul of a person, and I can nearly feel my ovaries bursting within me.
Naturally, I have always wanted babies. I mean, come on, I grew up in a daycare, and then worked at that same daycare through my teens. A baby on the hip has always fit on me better than expensive leather purses. And yet, I am also incredibly selfish. I adore being alone, writing, eating mac n cheese alone in my bed in the most delicious evening of cheesy gluttony imaginable. I also can not save money....well, I suppose I am good at saving for plane tickets, and trips, but when it comes to actually saving just to save I am impossibly stubborn. Though I feel like it is cliche to watch your friends start to have babies and want it yourself, I fear that is where my heart is wandering. Now, I certainly need three plus years to settle down a bit (ahem....get a ring...) and learn to make casseroles, I suppose, as all moms somehow intrinsically are able. It is just amazing that I am even near to this point. Somehow, the 78 middle-school children are not a deterrent in this want for children....can you believe? Even their sassy wagging of tongues does not faze me, as I am sure I will have very nerdy, quiet children that will read Saturday mornings (after we all sleep in) in my magical outdoor garden while sipping tea.....and then I will make homemade jam and pies while still maintaining a fabulously slim figure....all of this is reasonable, right?
As I approach the time of year when the long stretch of summer will lie before me, I find myself trying to improve. To take classes in baking, fitness and hopefully language as well. I am also going to soak up the sleep and leisure because I have, for some reason, decided to go back to school and get my master's degree in Advanced Literacy. Why would a teacher, who gets paid a mere $500 more a year for such credentials, decided to go through two years of extended education and slaving after work? Well, I suppose it is because I love to learn. Teachers love to see learning in others, but I like to think I am learning new things about myself every day...for example, how I managed to not scream profanities at the most apathetic and irritating student on the planet....I will tell you, nothing is harder in this world than keeping your cool with a sassy teen. Every day a middle school teacher does not get fired for cussing and/or swatting a child is a total victory.
I suppose what the general ramble of this entire blog is about is that I am growing up? Now, I assure you I am still endlessly infantile, and will admit that I am a very graceless fighter who pouts and storms off in relationships the way five-year-olds do, but I'm trying. I am starting to think about what is next in this life of mine, and realizing that perhaps there will be a time when I want to decorate a home, weed a garden, and swaddle a little baby more than seeing the temples of SouthEast Asia.
This, for me, is a strange swirl of growing up. I suppose I can thank my parents, for departing the edifice of my youth and forcing me to say goodbye. For now, Austin is my home. I will spend year 3 in my little Ewok Village and perfect miniature room with my balcony.....wondering if it will be the last I will spend there.
I will leave you with these words to ponder.....
"I think I'm finally growing up - and about time."
-Elizabeth Taylor
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