Friday, July 4, 2008

Have you ever watched The Bucket List? If not, you should. It was one of the better movies I have seen in a while. Watching it with Joe was just a joy. I love anything that makes him laugh. His laugh was the first thing that told me I was in big trouble with this man. Its so whole, so real, from his gut. I love hearing him laugh and I love it when he laughs so hard he actually doubles over. The change in pitch of his laughter, the squint of his eyes. I smile now just thinking about it. Joe's laughter fills me with joy.

We watched this movie tonight. Joe has gone on to bed but I am not ready yet to sleep. I don't have a "bucket list". Do you? I probably should. I think I feel and understand better than most people how brief our lives really are, particularly among people my own age. Hell, I am 37 years old, soon to be 38. Well, sort of soon. Three months. That's nothing! The material point is that I still feel like I am 25 inside me. I don't FEEL like a nearly 40 year old. And it strikes me how fast the past 37 years have gone. I can remember being a child and thinking I would NEVER get to grow up, and how I would brood on how long it was taking. I won't be so cliche as to wish myself back. I can think of things that happened at pretty much any juncture of my life that would be sufficient reason not to want to go back there. But I do want to understand and savor where I am now. And I want my message to be clear to those left behind if I should die prematurely. I just don't happen to know what that is yet. I used to think that was a kind of insurance against something catastrophic happening. Now I know it is just a lack of clarity on my own part. Everyone dies. Everyone. Would you want to know, if you could, the exact date that your life will end? I kind of do. But yet I am glad I don't. I just know I want more time here, with my boys, with Joe, with family, with the ability to learn and grow and contemplate. I don't want to die yet. Luckily I have no indication that I am about to, unless you count a terminal case of overthinking most of life's normalities. She died of desperate problem solving Your Honor. I am so at risk for missing the forest for the trees.

Today was a good day, a relaxed day. Nick and Alex went with Stewart to his parents' house for the Fourth and came home exhausted and with rounded bellies full of cheeseburgers and hot dogs. Joe sent me out on a walk this evening. I was very resentful, not wanting to do it, but he had issued me a challenge to walk two miles in the amount of time it takes him to run three. I am happy to report that my competitive nature is as defiant and determined as ever, and I walked my two miles in three minutes less than he ran his three miles. Granted he had one more mile on me, but now he feels compelled to run his three miles in the time it took me to walk two. This could wind up being painful for the both of us as we trump one another's clocked times.

So today was easy. I bought a lottery ticket. I got Tums at CVS and Nick new hiking boots at Target. I folded laundry and watched way too many episodes of What Not To Wear, a show that is completely addictive to me and is annoying enough to drive Joe to sit outside with his beer in 100 degree weather rather than listen to it. I had two showers, a handful of tortilla chips, chicken breast for dinner and wore a strapless sundress. An ordinary day. An ordinary life. Fourth of July, 2008. Joe is here. Nick and Alex are healthy. Nobody is sunburned, not even Joe, who spent the day outside with his shirt off and finishing staining the fence along with mowing the lawn. Loving me and our life in his deeds. Nobody is sick. Nobody has anything to really complain about, not really. The world is still and soft, wrapped around me as I wonder what comes next at the same time as feeling so blessed for what IS.

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