The mouse running on the hamster wheel has finally come to a halt making it feel like my inner voice has gone AWOL. All I hear now is the rhythmic purring of a literal cricket and the occasional barking of a dog. That’s the extent of it. Well, except for the mind game I keep playing with myself.
It’s like a grown-up version of Red Rover, you know? Remember that game where you’re on a team, and when your name is called, you sprint full tilt, trying to break through the other team’s clasped hands? Depending on whether you make it through or not, you either switch teams or head back to your old one. Right now, the idea of moving to Georgia feels like slamming into a wall of clasped arms, only to boomerang right back and land flat on the ground.
Today, I found myself sitting on our porch, daydreaming about putting up a new overhang because the current one leaks. I even thought about using the money from my grandma’s will to invest in a greenhouse or a stylish circular dining room table. These are just little updates, little things that keep me rooted where I am. But who knows tomorrow, I might Red Rover back to the idea of Georgia, imagining myself swimming in an imaginary pool and listening to the sweet songs of cool birds.
Do you ever feel like me, dumbfounded when you get overly invested in an idea and then drop it like a hairy spider in your hand? I’ve been told countless times that I have big ideas as if it’s a bad thing. Well, yes, I do have big ideas, and yes, not all of them materialize. But you know what? A lot of them do.
I’m the kind of person who commits to ideas, exploring every dreamy nook and cranny until they almost become a reality. I share these dreams with friends and family, and we get so wrapped up in them that we shed tears of sadness and joy and act as if they’re already happening, like improv actors stuck in an imaginary box. And then, somehow, somewhere, I do an about-face. It’s like that moment in Forrest Gump when he stopped in front of a crowd of people running behind him, supporting a cause, and said, “I’m tired. I think I’ll go home now.”
Just now, my brother sent me a listing for my grandparents’ house, the one they built right next to ours when we were growing up. It’s almost identical to how it was back then. Turns out, the current owners have an unpaid loan of $82,000, and the house is going into foreclosure. The temptation to move into it is almost overwhelming. The view of Mount Rainier from every room in the house never lost its magic. On sunny days, I’d spot a cloud hat on the mountain’s peak and know that rain was coming within the next three days, like clockwork. There’s some scientific explanation for how it creates its own weather, but I’ll leave that to Google for now.
I’d love to stay and chat more, but it’s time for me to sign off and spend some quality time with Dave. I’ll be back again tomorrow. Until then!
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 