Just because you can't put a bow on it

Oh, how I long to live a simple little life. When I was little I would dream about how romantic it would be to be married to a writer and live in a tiny apartment in Paris and work at the flower shop downstairs, knowing that my husband was upstairs tap-tapping at his typewriter (because of course it is more romantic to write at a typewriter than a computer). I would stop at the market on my way home and pick up greens for dinner. After, we'd sip wine and he'd dry the dishes while I washed. Then we'd curl up in bed and read until we were too sleepy. And the next day we'd get up and do it all again.

Oh, how I long for a simple little life. How tired I am of the city and living in a little apartment, how tired I am of chasing dreams and not knowing and worrying over the future. How I often feel like I'm being punished because I didn't choose a more direct career path, and that maybe, if I'd picked a "grown-up" career, I could have all the little things I want so badly. The little things like waking up in the morning and just being able to sip my coffee and visit with Michael while he gets ready for his day. Little things like having a little home and a little garden, where I could bake and cook and grow vegetables and take care of my babies and at the end of the day we'd all curl up and read a little and love a little and sleep a little. And the next day it would all start over again.

The other night I was folding laundry in the bedroom while Mike was working on some writing, Theo curled in his lap, Valentine curled on the bed amongst the clean socks, Feist on the stereo, our bellies full of something wonderful Mike had fixed for dinner, dishes drip-drying in the kitchen, and I realized what an asshole I am. I already have a simple little life. I'm lusting after something I already possess. My life couldn't possibly be any littler or any simpler. It may not look like it belongs in the pages of Better Homes & Gardens, it may not have a white picket fence around it, it may not be the cookie-cutter shape I grew up thinking it should be, but it is exactly the life I am dreaming about.

Does that happen to you? Do you ever catch yourself talking about wanting something and then realizing that what you want is actually right in front of your face, if only you'd take a moment to appreciate it? I'm really working on that. I'm really working on learning to appreciate every little moment as it happens because it is the only thing we really have. This moment right now. And when I am able to take a deep breath and stop fretting over the future, and not obsess over the past, I realize that what I've got right this second is actually pretty perfect.

And the other thing? Right here and now I resolve to never again accuse myself of not having a "grown-up" career. My career is not only something grown-ups do, but it's something that brilliant, world-changing, noble, courageous grown-ups do. In the words of the great Helen Hayes:

"When I consider how many of the world's greatest minds -- Sophocles,
Aristophanes, Shakespeare, Goethe, Moliere, Ibsen, Shaw -- have clothed their
ideas in The Dramatic Form; when I consider the enjoyment, the enrichment, and
the enlightenment that The Theatre has brought into the lives of countless
millions down through the ages -- I Become Very Proud of My Profession."

Yes, I know I've said this before, but what needs to grow-up is me, not my career. And I'm working on it, I really am. A little bit every day. See?