I heard a song that felt like home to me, but I'd actually never heard it before. The voice and lyrics were a place I'd been, a slow dance, something close to someone and I didn't know how to get back there.
How do you get back to that time when everything was still possible? A family with everyone present, a recipe for tamales that was my own, babies and stitches, my parents babysitting, anniversaries with tacky centerpieces. My mother and her sisters laughing, faces made up like Mexican movie stars.
On one of my recent birthdays I was feeling like my best days were behind me when my 88 year old aunt said she wished she was the same age as me. She died later that year with the smooth clear skin of a woman half her age. She made me realize that I still have another life ahead of me and I have no idea what it includes. I've done the marriage and necessary things that came along with it, like lamaze class, refinancing, timeshare. Then I spent tens of thousands of dollars to unravel it and package parenting neatly into alternate weekends. I've had a lot of time in my own company since then and it's been good to get to know me.
Maybe the song is a home in a neighborhood that I've not moved in to yet. Maybe the slow guitar solo is the desire that will be felt again someday. Maybe those lyrics, written by the musician who's passed over a decade ago, was a vision into my future. Could it be the future of my children and their children? Their tacky baby shower games that I can be in charge of? A partner who knows that it matters at the end of the day to tell me how beautiful my daughters are and is grateful that my girls and I let him be a part of us? Little family, huge love. A partner who doesn't mind running for ice because I forgot.
It goes on sleeping.