Soo Lock of Life

A train's muted moan spreads across the silence as it heads west. It is yet dark but birds begin to actively twitter among darkened branches. One by one, bathroom lights begin to glow and the shadows of suburbanites getting ready for work or school dance on a translucent stage. All shades of blue are my favorite – robin's egg, sky, midnight, sea – yet it is the phosphorescent, barely blue light before dawn which decidedly speaks of all things – hope, despair, potential, fear, love, mourning and enlightenment.

It has taken me almost 50 years to grow up. From the minute I was born to the minute married, I carried the mantle of respectability, performance and achievement. Peacemaker, elegant eldest, proof of good parenting. In this curated, Soo Lock of life, it was inevitable that I would try to find an escape; test the cracks; dig for daylight. I never totally broke free, but whatever sweet taste of choice I encountered was finally enough to show me where peace really lives.

Leftover Chinese takeout and fresh coffee for breakfast.

I stand over food instead of sitting for a few reasons, one of which involves a cursed millstone around my neck involving food and judgement. The sun climbs above the fence-line and will hang in tree branches for several hours before barely clearing. There is an interstice between winter and spring, dating and marriage, youth and midlife . . . I've rarely met a person who can live in that space. Eventually, one must arrive.

I showed Kyle a picture of a cabin in a mountain wood with a brook nearby, and as if I needed to sell it to him I said, “Look! We'd never have to mow again” to which he said, “if we lived in a condo, we wouldn't have to mow either” to which I said, “you know that is never happening, right?”

Come to find out, my peace is not about me. But I'm not living in a fucking condo.