I remember being single. I didn’t have a boyfriend until I was nearly twenty-two years old, which I was pretty sure constituted “ancient.” Until then, I didn’t have many friends, either, so there was a lot of lonely time spent in those few years. I would go on dates with boys and then (I’ve never been sure why) they would feel the need to tell me that they weren’t interested in an actual relationship with me but hey, did I want to go out this weekend? I was in college, which was the freest I’ve ever been. I could go out whenever I wanted, walk wherever my legs could take me, spend all of my time reading if I wanted, learn about whatever I could get my hands on and all I could think about was the one thing I didn’t have.
I was so sad then because I knew that most people have had at least one boyfriend by the time they’re twenty-two but I find that it doesn’t matter at all now. In fact, I’m glad I saved all of that love for just one person.
We didn’t get to see the whales. There are 40,000 of them somewhere in that big ocean and, even though we climbed on board a sailboat and squinted for two and a half hours, there were no splashes, no tails, no shiny great backs rising from the water. No whales today.
Our friend the tour guide/bartender feigned disappointment even though he’s probably seen enough whales to fill a lifetime, and I said, “Well, but it’s a nice ride, anyway,” trying to be cheerful.
But we tried again the next day with our free return tickets and watched the boat pull away from the dock as we ran across the parking lot. But, instead of watching whales, my sweet aunt and I took the kids to the playground in the rain and they played on the back of an enormous plastic whale and played in their pretend houses and made us eat pretend food.
I sat down at my computer just now, hoping to write something that I could be proud of. And now here we are. I haven’t posted on my blog in ages but I’ve been writing a lot. It’s just that I don’t think any of it is much good and I don’t want to publish something that I don’t even like. So the plan today was to write (and finish) something…
I wrote that last line a week ago. Obviously, my plan fell through just a little bit but I do know that, in that week, I’ve spent a lot of fun time with my kids and I’ve made (and eaten) a lot of good food and worked on big projects. It’s probably good to have plans to give me a direction and an idea of where I’d like to eventually go, but it’s the “eventually” that is where the fun lies. Sure, it’s aggravating to see that plan/dream/goal get further and further away from me as I walk along the path but maybe that means I just need to look down and around a little more because, if I’m always looking dead ahead, who knows what I’ll miss along the way?