Karen Rivers

covet list.

Karen Rivers

I've been wanting things.   I list them in my head.   An Olympus Pen EL2.  New shoes.  A place to wear new shoes.   A bigger tent.  A kayak with a see-through hull.  

A reason.  

Towels with no holes in them.   A linen closet.  

Dinner out.   To see Bridesmaids.

To be full of glee.


I pretend I can buy all these things.   I win the fake lottery.   I shop.

Then I think, "Oh, my house will be too small for all this stuff."  

I crave a bigger house with colourful walls and comfortable furniture.   I crave a smaller house, with almost nothing in it, white walls and lots of light.  

I crave things that will clutter my life up, I want to clear out all the detritus.  

Everything is a paradox.  

I want this and that.  I can't part with that or this.  I need this.   I have to have that.   I want it gone, all of it.  I've been selling things on Craigslist.   Get it gone.   It feels so good when it goes out the door.   When I buy something new, I think, "I wonder how long it will be before I sell this thing, before I want it gone, before I am happy to see it go."  

I no longer know what I want.  

I want a day of uninterrupted writing.  I want all my pictures uploaded and edited.   I want my taxes done.   I want every errand to take care of itself, a robot to vacuum the house, more hugs, time to fly kites before the kids no longer want to.   

I'd like a rootbeer popsicle.   A new song to love.   A way of staying awake late enough to get everything done.   A long walk in the woods that ends with a beach where there is crashing surf.   I want to surf without having to learn how.   I want to dive into the sea and not be eaten by a shark.   I want to unsee the preview for The Reef.  

And unwatch Jaws, for that matter. 

I wish I could do a cartwheel.   I wish I knew how to cook steak.   I would rather not be allergic to shrimp, because I want a huge shrimp salad, a cold glass of wine, outside on a balcony in the sun.

I need.  I want.  I have.   

Too much.   I would rather not want more things.  I am happy with what I have.

Yes, I am.

I have so much.   Two kids who believe in things, like Santa and immortality.   A career.   A nice house.  Too many shoes.   A dog who suddenly knows how to sit when I snap my fingers.   A sense of purpose.   A new plot.

How much do you want that you have and how much do you have that you want?