I told David recently that sometimes my idea of a heaven–a true heaven, entirely imagined but wholly a real place where we go when we die and live forever and ever, amen–would be the chance to relive our lives, exactly how they were, just without all the mistakes: none of the yelling. None of the gossiping. No fights, no personal cold wars, no shunned friends or hurt family members or crying children. It would be a chance to live our lives exactly how they’re supposed to be lived, in Ideal Land, where the children know they’re loved and you’ve never hurt anyone and you never go to bed at the end of the day cringing over that thing you said or that moment you let slip away. It would be a place where you made sure your neighbor knew you cared, and where you ensured the hungry were fed, and where you never turned away from someone trying to meet your eyes. It’d be a place where, if hurt or offended or upset, we’d get to react or move forward or jump past the pain in…
It’s really, really hard to walk through this life without keeping tabs on other people. And I know I can tell you this because you understand what I’m talking about. That person clearly has more money than I do–look at that brand-new pool! Did you see that new SUV? Ugh. They better be in boatloads of debt or I’m going to hate myself. Or: That person was just awful to me. Why do people have to be so mean? Why should I bother being nice to him/her when s/he’s such an asshat? Or: If I have to do ONE MORE LOAD OF LAUNDRY (substitute: wash one more dish, pay one more bill, make one more meal, schedule one more week) I am going to LOSE my MIND. Why doesn’t anybody else around here do as much as I do? Ugh, this house/our lives would fall apart if it weren’t for me. Or: No one told me marriage would be this hard. Honest to goodness, single people don’t know how good they have it. Why does that couple seem so happy…
It’s Tuesday, and I’m sitting in my dark office. It’s about eight o’clock in the morning. I’ve been up since 5:30 but that just means I’m only on cup of coffee #2. David has left to take the girls to school, and Cian is still asleep. It’s completely quiet in here save the ticking of a little clock I keep on a table and the soft sound of the rain falling against the porch roof out front. I’ve a salt lamp switched on. That warm glow is like inside sunshine on a day like this. Most days we all need a little sunshine, manufactured or not. (Salt lamp, do your magic.) I’ll also tell you something else: we had family over to celebrate Easter on Sunday, and yesterday I was too occupied with the kiddos to worry about clean-up. So right now? My office is the only room in the house that’s truly clean. I might very well be hiding. I wandered in here with my coffee to do something after the garage door closed, but I’…