2 a.m.
I had a dream tonight. DH and I were in bed and the ceiling started dripping. One drop in my face... pause... maybe I imagined it... then another. Next thing I know we're watching the storm from our second story bedroom. Trees are flying through the air. I realize we're in peril. One comes toward the house, wiping out the first floor. Magically, dreamily, the second floor is still standing. Then I'm walking, surveying the Africa-like landscape. I see kangaroos. And land-bound water buffalo. I don't think I can count them. Then I understand I don't need to, I just need to take them in. And the moment I decide to accept the beauty of it, a water buffalo starts lunging at me, hitting the trees that I hide behind with its formidable forehead.
This hostile environment -- the flying trees, the lunging animals -- is the suburbs. I haven't been writing because I can't afford to be in touch with how I feel about it all, the fear, the resentment. But DH said something that brought it all to the surface. We met with a friend from NY and DH told her that this place wouldn't even make the top 20 places we would like to live (it was a clear and un-accidental We). And I thought later, Carrie-Bradshaw-on-her-Mac style, What does it mean to live in a place that isn't in your top 20? What does it mean to give up waking up in the morning and seeing a place, city, view that makes you happy?
And I'm not sure it's fair. Not whether it's not fair of him, but it may not be fair of me, to myself. What kind of loyalty do I have to myself to let this happen, to drag myself to a place I find banal, where I feel no vitality and have no connections. And, in my defense, it's not as though any of the places I have loved have made me happy. To wake up pleased with one's habitat in no way guarantees that one's day will be lively and satisfying. And, my life is now filled with beautiful things, like a daughter, and stepsons, and a partner who understands what it means to be a partner. I'm still not confident in the honesty component, but the rest, the rest is irreproachable.
But still, I wonder.
This hostile environment -- the flying trees, the lunging animals -- is the suburbs. I haven't been writing because I can't afford to be in touch with how I feel about it all, the fear, the resentment. But DH said something that brought it all to the surface. We met with a friend from NY and DH told her that this place wouldn't even make the top 20 places we would like to live (it was a clear and un-accidental We). And I thought later, Carrie-Bradshaw-on-her-Mac style, What does it mean to live in a place that isn't in your top 20? What does it mean to give up waking up in the morning and seeing a place, city, view that makes you happy?
And I'm not sure it's fair. Not whether it's not fair of him, but it may not be fair of me, to myself. What kind of loyalty do I have to myself to let this happen, to drag myself to a place I find banal, where I feel no vitality and have no connections. And, in my defense, it's not as though any of the places I have loved have made me happy. To wake up pleased with one's habitat in no way guarantees that one's day will be lively and satisfying. And, my life is now filled with beautiful things, like a daughter, and stepsons, and a partner who understands what it means to be a partner. I'm still not confident in the honesty component, but the rest, the rest is irreproachable.
But still, I wonder.
posted by antigone at 2:25 AM
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