It’s on days like these that I miss the blog the most; when it’s all chills and clouds outside; when I’m fixated on my keyboard trying to get work done, while all I really want is to be out in the cold breeze, sipping hot cocoa and penning down my thoughts somewhere with Sarah McLachlan’s “WinterSong” in the background.
-AUC, December 2015-
Things have changed: Life’s different. I see it taking people I love to different places, paths, jobs, countries. I see me and Mr. Love getting immersed in new aspects of life. With a baby girl on the way, I don’t know what to expect (No, I didn’t read what to expect when you’re expecting). I’m ecstatic surely, but also petrified (just a little). Will we be good parents? What defines a good parent? Will she like us? Am I going to balance being a mom and being me? I have no idea what these few coming months will unfold, but I know I want to make my best to make things work, while not losing myself in the process of becoming a mother.
I love our little life. I want her to be part of it. I am excited to make her part of it. She is already so loved; her grandparents and our siblings have never been happier. Yes, our little life’s different, I suddenly feel like it’s “bigger”, but I like that. As life stretches a little, the adult in me grows, but the kid in me waits for Santa still – 20 days to go, for the snow and mistletoe.
I’ve been avoiding reading through Marion’s previous adventures. I feel as if I have disappointed her. I left her trapped inside the electronic pages of a fool for words’ blog, from which she never emerged. I tried, but the thing with writing (or with me) is I can’t force it. It has to call for me. It has to come to me. I can’t sit myself down and decide to take Marion places. She calls on me to go wherever she wants, and I take her: to her love and back, to her hometown and back, my words take her wherever she wishes – the romantic fool in me – and she’s always been happy that way. I always got her, and she got me, never forcing me into an area of discomfort. She’s been one of my realest friends for a very long time, but this year, she is laying so incredibly low, I can barely sense her presence, and it pains me, because Marion and I, we grew older together, we lived each other’s realities and fantasies, whilst always somehow managing to stay side by side.
-courtesy of a fist full of bolts-
I just finished reading Paula Hawkins’ Girl on the Train, and throughout the whole novel, I kept thinking to myself: how could her main protagonist be so rough of a character? How did Paula manage to bring her into life so vividly whilst preserving her own sanity? She seemed very much alive to me that I’m so envious of them both right now. I’ve got to make this happen, and I will. Hang in there Marion. I am coming for you.
I sometimes lose sight of “a bit of me” in the process of planning my happy ever after, and I’m not particularly fussy, nor detail- oriented. I like looking at the big picture, but I still lose sight of “a bit of me”, which brings me to the conclusion that the conviction I’ve always had about life remaining indefinitely the same is really a myth. Life changes.
“Meet you halfway”
It just does, and when you’re planning your happy ever after, you plan for two. You think for two. You live for two. It seems simple in theory, but practice can be tricky, so I’m learning that the key to making ends meet is really to preempt what is awaiting instead of diving into it blindfolded. It helps.
You’ve got to envision the end result, and think to yourself: it’s me, Mr. Love, our warm fuzzy little home, our happy big books, and to get there, there are just a few (transitional) facts that you would want to come to terms with:
- You will prioritise: and by prioritising, I mean Mr. Love will come first, not your reading, not your writing, and yes (sorry to break the news), not your friends. He will (so effortlessly to your heart) come first.
- Your social life will take a temporary nap: and that is OK because the truth is: read no 1. again, and you are also constantly trying to find the right balance between you time, you-two time, his friends time, your friends time, and there’s just not enough time in the day, or week to juggle it all in. There is no digital magic wand for that just yet (sorry).
- And then there will be those days when you get the urge to flee, and you will wonder (yes, you will) what on God’s (not so) green earth are you doing it all for?
And love will (not so) surprisingly be your answer. It will so uncommonly be your voice of reason, and for the sake of love, you will walk steady and be just fine. You will prioritise. You will be less of a social butterfly. You will (sometimes happily- sometimes less happily) exchange a wild night out with a movie night in. You will introduce a new small section to your wardrobe (for when you meet the parents). You will choose to move into a house with a kitchenette instead of a proper kitchen (because you can see the look on Mr. Love’s face when he finds his dream house). You will do it all, and you will not risk losing any bit of “you”, because you two are meeting halfway and finding a common ground, and once you do (and you will), there you will have it: your happy ever after.
Mr. Love proposed. He swayed my way like a beautiful tango by the sea. I had been adjourning that moment in my mind- I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know when the “right” time would come. I might have been expecting a poke from the Internet of All Things confirming that the time was right, or a blog post from Susan Miller urging all 32-year old Virgos to get hitched.
“where the magic happens”
But Mr. Love proposed, so unconventionally, so randomly, as he has accustomed me to. And this randomness does me so well. It cools down the blown-out-of-proportion nerves in me, and soothes the train of what-ifs in my head. It gives me a breather, and gently carries me back to the “now”, and the now is a good place. It’s warm in the now. It’s fields beaming with sunflowers; it’s skies pouring tiny drops of glee; it’s rainbows promising more nows tomorrow.
Mr. Love proposed, and my heart and mind, for once, were in agreement. The “right” time paused and it all sank in. I’m right where I want to be. I’m right where I am meant to be. It’s me, the man I love, and that beautiful tango.