106

August 29, 2008 :: North

Sometimes I think back, way back, to a sunny day when I was probably thirteen. I was trying (in vain) to tan in the backyard of my parents' house in Indiana, attempting to bronze myself into the confidence to wear skirts that bared my twiggy, pasty legs. I was reading Orwell, and thinking not about 1984, but about 1994, 2004, 2024. I wondered very specifically that day what my hair would look like when I was a grown woman, a real adult. I wondered if I'd have a job I liked. Who my friends would be. Where I'd live. I thought, "who will I marry?"

Sometimes the 2008 me wanders back there and plays the matching game. "I live hundreds of miles from this backyard. My hair is curly and short and brown. I can't believe people pay me to write - all day long. My friends are very different, though I still think about the ones I had then...." I've done it a lot lately, because I've finally answered the last question. "I'll marry a man named Blake." That I never would have guessed. I'd never known a Blake then.

I remember wishing back then that the guy I'd marry would be smart. That he'd read lots of books. That he'd not be some meat-head jock, some guy's guy, some asshat that thought with his lesser member. I hoped he'd be cute. (probably cute...handsome has hardly ever intrigued me). That he'd be fun. That he'd like music and not be concerned with being "cool".

I wish I could remember more - or remember if I'm really matching these things up now because they fit so nicely with who I am marrying--if I'm re-writing history because it seems so right, or because I really wanted those exact things? I wish I knew.

And I wonder if now, when I think, "What will i be like in 2028? Will my hair be gray? Will I have children? Will I love Blake even more than I do now?" if I might be somewhere twenty years from now, re-writing today's wishes in my head to suit that present.