Sunday, April 21, 2013

Little Red Corvette

When I hear the words Midlife Crisis, for some reason, the picture that immediately comes to my mind is a random balding man, speeding, in a candy apple red Corvette. He is smiling, maybe even a bit smug. His shoulders are relaxed, one hand casually draped across the steering wheel, and he is wearing shades. The cheap kind, you know, with the 80's mirrored lenses? He flashes to my mind every time I hear those words.

Why is he smiling? Is it because he thinks his car is cool? Is it because he knows something I don't know? Or is it because he is breaking the rules of smart finance and speed? 

I think I figured him out. I think he is smiling because he got what he wants.

Don't we all want that? Not the Corvette, but to actually get what we want in life? To get what we think that we deserve?

Going through this home renovation, let me tell you, it is very easy to want. It is also very easy to blow your budget. It is very easy to get wrapped up in small details, big decisions, and to press those stress buttons that test your patience and your marriage. It is easy to become the person you don't want to be.

Hey, guy in the red corvette, I am nearing this crisis and need a fast ride in your car. I am closer to 40 than I am to 30, and am still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up, and living in a house that will not be finished for ages. Help. I need a ride. Not because I want what you got, but because I need to want what I already have......

My girl. She runs, climbs, sings, and reads. Her chest breaths in and out easily. Her heart beats solid, and she is growing tall like her dad. I can't even begin to tell you what a miracle this is.

She is strong, she is healthy.

 I have already won the lottery. 

I am very grateful, indeed.

My legs. They can run. I am able to write, ride my bike, garden, and paint. I can hold my camera easily and take pictures using both my hands. I can take my dog for a walk. These are thing I easily take for granted on a daily basis, things I usually forget to be very, very grateful for, and for them I am so humbled to have the ability of daily use.

Yes, I have won the lottery. My body is able.

Food. I have it. I can buy it or grow it. I can cook it, I can take it on a picnic. Water, too. I can drink it and water my garden with it, easily. I turn on the faucet, it is there. I take a shower, the water is warm. For that I am lucky, and very thankful.

I have won the lottery. The people I love, their bellies are full, and they don't thirst.

My best friend. I get to see him every day. He makes me laugh, and loves me even when I am a mad, crazy- haired, freak. He is an awesome father, and I get to raise my girl with him. He is the first person I see in the morning and the last person I see at night, and for that I can count my lucky stars, because he holds my moon.

I love my best friend like I love no other.

I have won the lottery. My best friend and I are married.

The four seasons, the yearly comfort of the routine. The sun comes up, it goes down. The trees bloom, then they let go. The air we breathe, it smells good and tastes good, and it is free. There are oceans to swim in, mountains to explore, wonders to be in awe of and a big beautiful Earth to take care of.

That is incredible.

Folks, we have all won that lottery.

This man in the red corvette. He shows up when I think I want what I haven't got. He reminds me to want what I already have. There is only one thing I can argue with him, when he takes me on this ride. There is one thing I will always want that I cannot have, something I try my best to keep in a place where I can manage it before it starts to tear my world down. It is the thing that prevents me from feeling like a whole person, that no amount of money in the world can buy, and no amount of praying can help the pain. That would be to have my Vanessa back. For me to love her, and know her, and raise her like I was supposed to. Like I was meant to. For me to kiss her face, and wipe her tears, watch her grow, and hold her close.

He shakes his head and his smile loosens a bit as he tells me, " I know it doesn't feel like winning the lottery, but, she will always be your daughter and you will always be her mother. Nothing will ever, ever change that. That kind of love, is beyond this world.

You have won the lottery, he tells me.

That kind of love is forever.

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