I could say that my life is in total upheaval. Everything is topsy turvy. I feel like I'm at a giant train station. An outdoor platform, smoke in the air. I am waiting for the train that is my life to arrive. But the platform is my life. My life is what is happening now. Happiness depends on my ability to make peace.
Make peace with the platform.
I could say that on Christmas morning, Ayla was underwhelmed by her gifts and I was embarrassed.
I could say that we walked to the lovely beach from my brother-in-law's lovely beach-ish house and that we saw dolphins and the girls splashed in the sand and frolicked in the gentle waves.
I could say that I dropped my camera into the ocean and that even though I plucked it out quick as a glimmer, it was ruined.
I could say that I cried at Disneyland. I could say that I was extremely frustrated with Disneyland. I could say that I loved Disneyland, and all would be true.
All are true.
I cried when Ayla and Indy met the princesses. Isn't that the stupidest thing? Who can account for this? Do you know me? I am not the sort of person that cries over princesses.
Yet. I did.
I could say that Disneyland is the line-iest place on earth. That you have to wait in line to wait in line. And let me say: We all know Disneyland is expensive. What I did not know was that it costs approximately $100 a minute. And that is just to breathe the air.
I could tell you that our families were so generous with us that we didn't have to worry about money when we were there, and that was an enormous relief.
I could tell you they confiscated my one Disney souvenir at the airport because ornament Cinderella was sitting on a small liquid-filled bubble.
I could try to tell you how surreal and completely divided from all things natural Orange County is and I feel like if I lived there, I would go into a kind of cement and mall tainted sleep, and possibly never wake to the bracken and bramble again. But really, why bother to dwell.
I could tell you to take heart. Take heart. The darkness has come, and it has passed. Already, the light is returning.
I keep waiting for my life to start, but this is my life. In all its slouching, lurching, glimmering uncertainty. The dolphins may be offering up brief mythic glances in the distance. It's all right to look. Fear not, the tide is coming in. But don't forget. For now, you are not in the waves. For now, you are standing in the sand. Beautiful things surround here, too.