Is This What You Want?

Theme song: You Can't Always Get What You Want

Do you remember Harriet the Spy? I first read her -- actually, I guess it's not her book, but the author's, whoever that is -- when I was 10 years old. Maybe it's easy to inspire a 10 year-old, maybe it's not, but the thing about Harriet the Spy is that the author created a character so real to my little self that he -- or she -- disappeared.

Reading about Harriet now, she doesn't come off as nice or even particularly likable. Maybe as a child what I could relate to was how strong, and how very human, she is.

The years passed and I forgot about Harriet. Forgot, in fact, childhood plans to, similar to Harriet, become a private detective and a writer.

I may have forgotten Harriet, but I have 34 years of journals to show that what she inspired within me never died. Now, of course, and I feel a can-you-believe-it's-true frisson when I write these words, people pay me to write.

Today, in fact, someone told me (here comes another can-you-believe-it's-true frisson), "You're obviously a very talented writer." OH, Lord!

While I was busy doing other things (sociology, social work, missing Chloe, teaching yoga, being a stay-at-home mom, and repairing a broken heart), the dream stayed alive within me.

The thing that finally dislodged it, the thing that caused me to pursue my fiercest desires was, in a strange way, having nothing left to do and nowhere else to go. It's as if life edits me, whittling me down 'til all I can be is me.

I've always sensed a shiny little thread of metal running through me and the name of that metal is and was belief in my self.

Belief may have been fragile and easy to rattle, but it never broke.

I have circled myself, narrowing in on what I really wanted, in fits and starts.

I thought I wanted stability, and was willing for a time to buy it at a very high price, as long as I could live a life free from chaos. As long as I could feel safe.

I never wanted a past, but now I have one, and though sometimes my past sings to me softly like a siren, thank goodness for it because I've come -- reluctantly, yes -- to see I couldn't be here where I am without one.

Today someone asked me, "Is this what you want?" I answered as simply as I could, "I don't know." And she said, "You've never sounded more clear."

The thing is, life happens. I feel readier than ever before to let it happen on its terms.

As I look back, I see that very little I decided upon -- except maybe the very most important things -- has come to pass.