If your life has turned out exactly the way you planned, this column is not for you.
If, however, you’ve had a front row seat to life’s curveballs, some good, some not so, keep reading. You are among a kindred spirit. And by kindred spirit, I mean a middle-aged woman sitting in a coffee shop in her hometown, the place she once swore she’d never, never return to after high school. Should’ve skipped that extra “never.” I once had a flair for hyperbole.
I also once said I’d travel the four corners of the world because I was 8 years old and I’d heard someone say that. Plus, I thought there were, literally, four corners from one end of the earth to the other. Thank goodness for geography class.
Next to global travel, I kept other dreams in a lime green leather diary with a lock and key cleverly titled as “Amy’s Dreams.” Then I lost the key. Then the journal. But, the dreams were still there, deep in the heart of an impressionable young girl who thought proclaiming to leave home for good was the only way to fulfillment.
Some of my dreams were, and still are, worth pursuing. But a lot of them were really a delusional form of desire masked as a fantasy, usually someone else’s fantasy because it sounded exciting and so utterly different from the life I was living. Different was what I was shooting for.
One thing I never scribbled in my journal was the notion of contentment. Who wants that? To me, contentment inferred settling, and settling meant living smack in the middle of unfulfilled plans and hopes in a town far too small for someone with big honkin’ dreams.
Then I grew up. And I left home. And I came back. And I left again. Came back. Well, you know the drill.
Along the way, I made a few dreams come true while also racking up a few big honkin’ failures. Homer Simpson said, “Trying is the first step toward failure.” Boy, did I try spectacularly. And you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing.
Seriously?
Of course I would! I’d change a lime green diary full of choices I made or choices I had to make that were out of my control — i.e. most of what life is made of.
But, gracious, life is also made of beautiful unrealized dreams, too, some that take you right back to where you never, never thought you’d be. Like back home.
Down the road from the coffee shop is a local French restaurant where Mike and I can be found most Friday nights. We have our spot at the end of the bar where Pablo makes our favorite cocktails. The owners and I catch up on each other’s families as local musicians perform as good anywhere I’ve been. Friends stop by for a few hellos on their way to their seat, and strangers sit next to us. By the time we leave, they usually become new friends.
This is our place, I say to Mike.
The last scene in “Something’s Gotta Give” has Jack Nicholson beaming as he sits at a table in a restaurant with his wife and new grandbaby. He’s beaming from ear to ear, like look at me, I’ve found it — everything I wanted.
And what did he want? Riches? Fame? Fortune? No, spoiler alert: He had those earlier in the film and things didn’t go so well. He found joy, love, contentment. In a place he never thought he’d be.
That’s how I feel in the place I never thought I’d be. Wherever I am, at my favorite French place or home or the bookstore, I sometimes glance around, beaming.
I’ve found it.
Joseph Campbell said, “We must let go of the life we had planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us. Usually, mine is waiting for me on the corner of Fort King Street and First Avenue.
