Where Am I?

I’ve had a weird, existential day. While Libby was at pre-school I watched Dirty Dancing… yes, that’s right, I spent my morning indulging in the 1987 movie magic that is Dirty Dancing and LOVING every minute of it! I didn’t intend to curl up with the laptop but I was looking for something else on Hulu.com and there it was – absolutely irresistible. It’s still awesome by the way but it really messed with my head. I painfully realized I now relate more to the well-intentioned, misguided father than the young, life-is-your-oyster, wrinkle-free Frances ‘Baby’ Houseman. What a bummer.

I also happen to be reading a memoir called, “The Gift of An Ordinary Day” and I’m getting a little tired of the author finding grace and deep meaning in every bird and breeze that crosses her path, every disagreement she has with her teenage son. She’s hammering home her journey to live simpler and let go of her tight hold as she approaches her life as an empty nester. Ugh.

So, I’m here. At 37 with fairly young children, I’m most certainly not the teenager I was, swooning over a scrumptious forbidden summer romance with Johnny Castle nor am I the mother of grown children finding new meaning in a quiet, empty house. I was very short with my family today because I guess this goofy mix of perspectives made me quite introspective and I felt stuck and maybe even a little depressed for some dumb reason. Maybe because my story is still being written – not neatly told on the silver screen with a great soundtrack making every moment, every glance, every argument more poignant and weighty and it’s not neatly told between the covers of a well edited book. I can’t remember the beginning, I can’t see the end and on this weird day, the middle is a strange unfamiliar place too. ???