The life of a Star-Ship Counsellor-Cop

I woke up Wednesday morning quietly, laying in a pool of gradually brightening morning light.  I can’t tell you how good that felt.  It was as close to joy as I’ve felt in awhile.  I suppose, with a baby, the joy is there but so is the busy-work, the action, the need to clean, care, hold, move.  And so the joy doesn’t get a chance to penetrate all the way down to your core.  You need stillness for that.  You need the quiet start of a new day.  You need to be alone and not pulled in all directions.  

There is a little tear in the shade in the spare room that’s been there since I can remember.  Where the window lock got caught in the shade and tore it.  I probably did it, let’s be honest.  Hurriedly, carelessly yanking up the shade some morning I was in a rush to go somewhere.  My ‘marks’ are everywhere here.  The faded dog stickers on my old childhood dresser that hadn’t been cleaned off yet.  I have to say there’s something relaxing about being in a house where the ‘to do’ list is more of a good natured suggestion than a do-until-you-drop command.  Where my ‘additions’ to the furniture and decorations haven’t been cleaned-up, straightened out, erased.

Where the memories of my childhood resonate as loudly as the fifteen fans they have going in the non-air-conditioned house.  Where the windows are flung open at night to catch the cool air and closed up during the day.  Where I can remember what it was like to be young and passionate about the future.  About my future.  As a cop-psychologist-writer who travels on a top of the line spaceship on a mission to explore strange new worlds, new galaxies, and to boldly go….etc.  Ba ba ba baaaa ba, ba ba ba baaaaaa ba ba ba ba baaaaa.  Etc.

I don’t think young teenager-me would be too disappointed with the way things turned out.  I have explored strange new worlds (if that doesn’t apply to Texas I don’t know what does…)   I do write.  I do throw a lot of psycho babble around at anyone who will listen.  (What were YOUR parents like?  Ah huh.  Ah HUH.  Ah huh…well that explains a lot.  No, what do YOU think I mean by that…?)

I’m not a cop but I do KNOW one.  And I have a beautiful baby girl who keeps me so happy and so busy I forget to be still and let the joy sink in.  I never knew I could help take care of two kids who aren’t my own in any way that a court would recognize, and lose a part of my heart to them.  Lose it in a good way.  Sort of planted deep down inside them and they are growing around that seed of love in a beautiful way.  They may not think about our time together or me every day or even at all for months at a time but, I’m there.  And that feels pretty good too.  As for the spaceship, I can do without any star-faring ship that doesn’t have a holodeck or a replicator anyway.  Really.  Let’s catch up to the times people.

And I never knew how passionate I could be about yoga.  About being mindful and trying to meditate every day.  Or that I’d train to be a yoga teacher myself.  I never dreamt how good sushi might taste.  Or what it’s like to take a subway by myself in Paris.  (Ok that was a huge mistake and an almost-international, TOTALLY terror-filled disaster but still…)  Even as a crazy optimistic kid I never imagined some of the things I’ve been able to do, experience, or accomplish so far in my life.  So they weren’t the goals I’d set out for myself in the beginning.  Goals change.  What you want changes.  Who you ARE changes, even if you don’t mean for it to happen and you liked yourself just fine before.  It’s nice to know some things don’t change.  Like my ‘marks’ on the walls here.  Both figuratively and, poor mom and dad, literally as well.

It isn’t what I would have envisioned for myself but I can’t imagine life any other way.  I can’t imagine it unfolding any differently.  Even if I’m not jetting through the galaxies at warp speed, counseling people and solving crimes on the way while writing about it in my series of best-selling novels entitled…’How to live the life you’ve always wanted – Holodeck living guide 3.0’.

It’s still a pretty good life.  And it’s real.  So, so real…

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