When I was a little Lulu- I was crazy about the world. I loved everyone I met with a powerful intensity and exuberance. I adored my teachers at the dear little PCS, and they made me so happy in those long, wide halls made out of white brick, that later in my life I decided that I wanted extremely much to be a kindergarten teacher. I can't even find my keys if I set them down somewhere; so how I was going to keep track of an entire classroom of wee little ones became an immediate problem. Besides we wouldn't have learned a darn thing except how to be wild things outside and eat cupcakes.
But I loved grown-ups. They were so enchanting to me; red lipstick, shiny high-heels, funny ties and mustaches. I remember sitting in the gymnasium with the entire school, what felt like hundreds of us, dressed to the nines for Halloween, all of us listening contentedly to our wonderful principal (completely transformed and decked out as Captain Hook) reading us Peter Pan. We all laughed and gasped at the funny and suspenseful bits; most of us were hanging lollipops from mouths agape. I looked around at all of us there and felt very sure that this was how life would always be. You and me and the ageless lost boys. Except when I was grown-up I would have a horse to ride to the post-office and no parents to ever be upset with me.
I was always very, very eager to be grown up. When I opened my time-capsule, full of treasures and notes from when I was a romping first grader (I'd left myself ample supplies of fuzzy unicorn stickers), I found a card from my mama; something I hadn't expected. It was very short and simple, all it really said was "You have always wanted to be big, and now you are" and she reminded me of a story of myself running everywhere in Halifax with a vacuum cleaner, in pumps and a feather boa, constantly playing house and "grown-ups".
If only I went everywhere in a feather boa now.
It came to me in the shower this morning; a realization so very disheartening it made me cry a little bit; that I've so rarely made magic of where I actually am. I've so rarely wanted to be my own age, in my own skin, with the people that actually surround me. Life has so very largely blurred by me, as my mind wandered either into the past or the future.
Someday I'll be a famous author, photographer-extraordinaire.
Once upon a time people loved and admired me. Now I'm not so sure.
Someday I'll have a farm, be a llama-mama, grow my own vegetables and flowers and happiness.
Once upon a time- all those tears and fights and panickings, all that hiding and running and sleeping...
Someday I'll have long princess hair. I'll be 6'2 and have the worlds most beautiful clothing.
Someday I'll be happy right where I am.
.Perpetually falling apart. Cutting her hair, trying again, losing her mind and her keys and control of herself. Do I need to become more organized, or just fall in love with life again, like I did when I was so little.
When everything was magic. Snowfall, candy, animals, songs. Everything. Soaked in God-life, enchantment, mystery and intrigue. All I needed in life was my bicycle, a friend to sing Christmas music very badly with, a pair of jeans and maybe a stuffed animal in case of creepiness. I used to enjoy everything. I still enjoy things very dearly, but lately I've been in hiding, ashamed of being seen as childish. I used to breathe whimsy. I knew so well how to be friends; by hooting and hollering together and wearing silly dresses and sharing cookies.
I hiked, danced, swam, roamed, napped, ate, played, touched and giggled my way through every single day. I remember long, long hours of swinging in the summer when I wondered if the sun would ever go down. Time was eternal, because I made time for it. I didn't schedule my day in the slightest, but I woke up and went out to investigate the fog, blow some bubbles, mess around in the mud, play with my figures underneath the peach tree, draw some pictures, eat some sandwiches and listen to my little red portable radio.
Now I'm afraid of everything. Grasshoppers, ghosts, other people, talking, what I look like, what I sound like, not having money, going to school, paperwork and the endless list of tasks I never get done and feel awful about.
I used to just be, and do and I love it. Everyday was Thanksgiving, because there was so much to love, to adore, to be glad about. I know that spirit is still in me, and it's strong. I've seen myself inspire other people to remember it, but then backed away from it in fear; afraid to be myself, to be honest. I'm so afraid of people not liking me, that I've transformed a million times in my life, never content to be Lulu without thinking about what that means. Growing, changing is good, but I've gotten away from the heart of who I really am. I've been so sad, and in honesty, angry, watching so many people that I love change and disappear into what someone decided once that the adult world had to look like. Lost to drinking, relationships, drugs, the weight of paying for their living, attending college, doing what seems to be the right thing because everyone else is doing it.
I used to know what life was really all about, and it was ice cream and long grass, sledding and giving people kisses, writing stories, playing games, kindly working for what I needed. Life must be about all of the good things, the really good things. All of this bad, I don't know what it means or what it's for, but it's not supposed to be here. People have allowed evil to have a field day in our big, beautiful backyard for the sake of progress.
I want to grow too, and learn and become, more and more. But I don't want to become a grey, listless adult, burdened and heavy and empty. Even if I have to work in an office to pay for all my alpacas and farming on the side, I'll do it with gusto! I'll delight in paper clips and lunch break and how marvelous ink looks on paper.
Even if I look silly, childish, stupid even, naive and overly emotional, I'm going to live, the way people were intended to live; with passion. I'm going to forgive everyone, everything, everyday because it's all just a big mess and unabashedly, unashamedly, in truth, I know that I am loved, by everyone who has been so gracious and beautiful to spend time with me. I know that I've made a difference, and a nice one. I've done a lot of dumb things, said a lot of dumb things, been selfish and ridiculous and just plain a jerk, but it's the price of being here and feeling sad and lost and worried, and everyone has done it. So, I forgive me and I forgive everyone who has been accidentally a jerk as well.
And from now on, I'm going to bask in Thanksgiving, all year long, everyday. In all the little things that are really the big things, like hugs and soup and Christmas Eve and rumpusing. Life deserves my living it, feeling and experiencing the endless stream of blessings that are pouring over all of us; a constant storm of love and devotion. Even if all I have to be thankful for at the moment is green beans and socks, I'll lose myself in the wonder of having green beans and socks and go from there. There is so much to explore, to love, to surrender myself to. And every day is a good day to remember and to do it in. <3
