In case you can't tell from the title, this is one of those existential crisis-y kinds of posts. So if you're looking for funny, it's not me today.
I'm not on a ledge, so don't fret. I'm just, well, here you have it:
What, I wonder, is the point?
Nick and I were talking about this the other night. We are wired so differently, which is fortunate. Because I get all kinds of what's the pointy? and if he did, too, well, I can just imagine it might be a bad hole to try and dig out of.
Because by the time I articulated it, I'd had my shovel out for a while and was halfway to China.
Fortunately, the tunnel has great accoustics.
I said, "You know, we haven't had fun - I mean really had fun - since our honeymoon."
"That's not true."
"When? When have we had fun?"
He thought about it. "We had fun on our anniversary."
"We had fun that one night with the wine on the sidewalk with the French neighbors."
"And the next day was hell."
I love Nick, I love Jordan, I love my mom. I feel lucky for where we live, that we're healthy, that we have good jobs and a nice house.
We talk, we laugh, we enjoy each other's company. (And is that where the apostrophe goes? Or is it after the S in others? This is one of those things I never know.)
I recognize these are not things to take for granted.
And I don't even know that I'm complaining. I'm not miserable, or even necessarily unhappy.
I'm just wondering if this is all there is?
Is it always just the same thing over and over and over? We'll work, we'll work on the house, we'll take care of the kid. We'll try to keep building a good life for him. We'll try to rejoice in the moments.
Perhaps I lack the presence and grace to celebrate the moments. Perhaps this is the problem.
We all recognize that last year was brutal. Nobody denies or questions that.
So maybe we'll take a vacation this fall. Or not, depending on money and time. Maybe next year or the following.
And then we'll come back to our same old lives. And they'll be the same, or maybe a little different. And we'll be the same, or maybe a little different.
Over and over and over.
And I wonder, is there a point? Does there need to be?