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.
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?