{Writing Prompt} In My Next Life ...

... I want to be the middle child, with an older brother and a younger sister. We'll be close in age; only 36 months difference between the three of us.

Throughout the years we frequently go to the same school, ride the same bus, stick up for each other and tattle on each other in equal measure.

In middle school my brother Chip fends off the bullies on the bus that pick on me. In high school, after he's crowned Homecoming King, his girlfriend Debbie sneaks with me into my first R rated movie. Afterwards Debbie tells me about the mechanics of sex and doesn't laugh when I ask questions that show just how clueless I am.

Chip's best friend's brother Tom takes me to Prom. I wear a ruffled, lacy, teal concoction that I got on clearance at the local department store. I'm proud of it, even if it's a little too big in the chest. Fortunately the stays keep it up and I improvise with a little artificial cleavage. Chip doesn't like Tom. But I do. A lot. In my diary I practice writing Mr and Mrs Tom Wakefield. Over and over. I catch my little sister Sophie reading my journal.

Sophie idolizes me for the first fourteen years of her life - until she starts her period and starts liking boys. Liking boys that I do not like one bit. Then Chip and I reunite to commiserate on our little sister's poor judgement and worry that she may be branded a slut at school.

Timing the Trailers

At the movie theatre my dad checked his waist watch multiple times to calculate the length of the trailers. He kept flipping it up to try to read it in the dark when the screen was brightest.

Ten minutes, he whispered.

Would've been my guess. Now I know.

Candy Cane Joe-Joe's

are my own personal crack.

Love them!

Maybe even more than Thin Mints.

Definitely more.

Fears

I connected with an old friend today ... in high school our mothers died and our fathers moved outside the school district. We carpooled senior year and shared the flirty banter you share with the opposite sex.

I've often felt we were on parallel tracks. Today that parallel track intersected ... it will probably deviate, a wide pendulum swing following the collision, but still ...

My biggest fear for many years was that I would die in the same way my mother did ... breast cancer at age 43.

Now that I'm living a chronic illness that is not life threatening (at least not like cancer), I see things a bit differently.

That's not to say that when I go for my biannual mammogram, get the letter in the mail that it was irregular, or pass the 43 year mile marker that I won't struggle with my mortality and flinch at the memory of my mom's premature death.

It's just that I have more perspective. Some of the things that were scary and unimaginable before are a little -just a little - demystified. Kind of like when Toto pulls the curtain back and reveals the man behind the Wizard of Oz pageantry. Kind of.

So my old friend whose mother died too young, of cancer, like my mom ... turns out his wife has the same chronic illness that I have. I know only 4 people that have this same condition - not that it's rare, but still - what are the chances? Arthur - my name of choice for this disease - has taken up residence in both our homes.

His mom died at age 39 ... we're now 37 ... his mom had Arthur, and then cancer. I think he's in the throes of seeing the specter projected on the screen - mystic and mystifying - and seeing his and his wife's mortality - in glittering horror.

My thoughts go out to him. Some things can be just too close to home - his past and his present - hopefully not his future.

My Favorite Things ... for the moment

The Word "Asinine"
Cormac McCarthy's "The Road"
Articulate Men
Lazy Days
Finishing Projects
If Snow Days Applied to Adults (not just teachers & students)
Skype
Precor AMT
Oscar's Red Carpet

Wistful

Today I heard from an old friend ... and as a result am feeling terribly, incredibly wistful.

Why is it that all of the ghosts of boyfriends past seem to circle back around at inopportune times? They've been radio silent, we've parted ways years ago, and suddenly they're in touch. Of course by now they're married, with children, and curious about what's going on with me.

Most are bygones, I'm not remotely interested in having a friendship with them after all these years in any shape or form ...

I don't get it - why they suddenly think we can resurrect a friendship? One ex went so far as to send me a secret admirer letter. Then said he doesn't have anything in common with his wife and wouldn't I play games with him on pogo.com? Just weird.

No good can come of it was what I say.

Except today.

That exact same whoosh of feelings burst out after eight years. Eight friggin' years! I'm giddy all over again. Amazingly so.

As much as I miss his friendship and crave it, tonight I ache. Buckets-full of ache.

Woe is wistful, wistful me.