A month or so ago I realized that I was long overdue for flying away somewhere and not being in my life for awhile; naturally, I thought of San Francisco. Short plane ride, distinct lack of snow, people I am fond of and babies to dote on, a tattoo to finish, some grooming, and also a lot of shopping. Not that I could have spent any money, but just kind of–touching. Admiring. Pulling down a rack of cunningly skull-embroidered sweaters in H&M and rolling around in them until they kicked me out or I developed a rash from the synthetics. Heaving myself up hills and going BOY THIS PLACE IS PRETTY! Sweating! It’s been a long time since I’ve sweated. I am so long overdue for all of that.
Having the vague outline of a plan quelled some of the restless, itchy shiftiness that had started to make me scratchy in my pants, and I’ve been looking at flights and thinking about domestic arrangements and mentally compiling my packing list (oh, the joy that comes when you realize you can wear cute shoes and your new pencil skirt what has moths on it andomg, dorky outfit planning ahoy). I had planned to fly out–well, this week, actually.
It is this week, now, and I do not have plane tickets. I do not have a hotel room, or plans with friends or a baby gift packed and ready to tuck into my luggage, which is also not packed with all my cute clothes. I don’t have a tattoo appointment with my tattoo artist to finish my tattoo, or a haircut and lady-waxing all lined up. I think it is about time that I admit that I am not going anywhere, this week or next, that snow is my eternal companion, that cocktails in a cocktail dress and red lipstick and fancy hair is not going to happen any time soon and the thought ought not to depress me.
I mean, we have Mexico in a few weeks. Less than three, in fact. Romance and shark-wrestling, tousled, salt-crusted hair and sun-warmed skin and sandy soles and drowsing under a giant umbrella with a coconut drink resting on my belly and the waves crashing just a few feet from me. I have no reason to be sad. I am going to read every book that’s ever been published and see a Mayan pyramid and even though I will roll myself in SPF All every morning I am sure I am going to become brown like a nut and twice as delicious.
That’s the thought that’s keeping me alive, crawling towards the finish line with hope in my heart, sitting next to happiness and sharing his popcorn. I mean, now that I remember that that’s what’s supposed to be keeping me alive–sometimes I worry entirely too much about what’s gone wrong, what I don’t have, what I think I need, and forget entirely–crazily!–how much I’ve already got. And how much shopping I have to do because I don’t think I have a bathing suit.
photo by RealEstateZebra