By this time, all 8 of my readers should know that I read the Vows column in the Times every Monday. It's a 'thing' with me. I can't help it. I read them for the romance, for the little stories of love found, lost, delayed, diverted, grabbed, pursued, stalked, and finally landed, culminating in a gorgeous ceremony full of wine, friends and cake.
Reading these stories of love and marriage, I feel like I'm walking past the shop windows on Michigan Ave, catching a glimpse of something gorgeous and totally out of my reach, like a Cartier watch or a Chanel shoe.
If my therapist was sitting in front of me right now, she'd press me. She would ask me if I was aware that there's a gap between what I say I want ('The cheese stands alone!') and what my inner whisperings clearly indicate I want ('The cheese could use some company.') I am aware of this gap - I am even aware of a few reasons why this gap exists. I just don't know quite how to traverse it.
Oh, there's a map of sorts in front of me: continue the forward motion that was retarded when my mother died 7 years ago (an event that was like a flaming meteorite falling from the sky into my life); put down roots (i.e., stop living with a roommate); and explore the possibility that my life might have a very different trajectory than the one I thought it would have.
But knowing the general plan of action and then thinking about the mountain of details that plan will require is daunting. I have clarity but not enough.
Vows - Annette Berry and Dan Miller - NYTimes.com