Heart's desire

A classmate of mine was doing an activity along with her class presentation. As people came into the classroom, she had people choose a brown paper bag out of several that she had fanned out in her hands. I chose the one on the far left (my left) and she commented, "I always wonder where people would pick. I wonder if it says anything about them." Maybe it did, but I just answered her, "I just picked the one closest to me."

She told us that there was a different picture in each bag, and that we should pull it out to see what we had chosen. I pulled mine out and then stared at it for a long time. Feelings, old and deep, began to well up in me, and it took me a moment to realize what the feelings were--longing. My picture was a simple one. It pictured a family gathered around a table for a feast. There were two middle-aged adults (probably the parents), two older adults who I assumed were the grandparents, and three children. Everyone in the picture was smiling at each other. I stared at the picture for the longest time, noticing the feelings rise up within me. It's strange that this picture--just a small, slightly blurry printout of a family gathering for a feast--could suddenly resemble everything I've ever longed for in my life, everything I've ever wanted. It was like looking into the mirror of Erised. I'm sure that if I had looked into that mirror, I would have seen the same thing, except with my own family there instead. I imagined my father looking healthy, my mother smiling in her shy way, and my brother with his toothy, Cheshire Cat grin. My grandparents would be there, too, all of them, including the grandmother who died before I was born. That's when I realized that the best things in life really WEREN'T things at all. I didn't long for money or success or fame or fortune, not all of those things that society conditioned us to want. All I wanted was a happy, healthy, loving family. All I wanted were two parents who had a happy marriage and who were still in love with each other. I wanted to know my grandparents, really know them, and not just have memories of them when I was a toddler and too young to realize them for what they were.

I almost cried, sitting there in class and staring at this picture. Even when I came home, I still had that picture in my hand, its symbolism in my head. Then I taped that picture to my bedroom wall. My wall of wants, I called it. That's when I decided that anytime I found something I really wanted, whether it be frivolous like a pair of shiny black shoes or something important like a family, I would take its picture, its symbolism, and paste it on my wall. It made me wonder what else I wanted and just didn't realize it yet...

Broom

I was shopping for groceries in Chinatown when I decided to buy Matt a broom. He only had a vacuum cleaner and since his apartment was all hardwood floors, I thought it would be more practical (and easier) to clean if we had a broom there instead. It was the last thing on my shopping list and I had just enough cash to buy a broom for him. Now let me tell you, I bought an Asian broom, not one of those brooms with the black bristles that Americans use. Asian brooms are made out of straw and they are tapered at one end. The handle is also shorter but thicker which makes it easier to handle with only one hand. Western-style brooms tend to be long and extremely thin, forcing a lot of people to use both hands in order to sweep properly. The handle of an Asian broom is also wrapped in wire or in plastic of two colors set in a horizontal pattern. Look one up if you're curious. Well, when I was shopping around for a broom, I just picked the first Asian broom I saw and paid for it. I regretted it a few minutes afterwards because some of the straw in the middle had been cut short, giving the broom a split look. This will make the broom slightly less effectively, but I had already paid for it so I just took it home anyway. In either case, I loved carrying that broom around Chinatown. It made me feel like a witch about to fly off into the sunset, kind of like the witch Kiki from the Miyazaki film. Turns out later that the broom I chose would garner some attention.

When I was carrying the groceries and the broom home on the subway, a few young gentlemen came into the subway with some drums and sat down right in front of me. One of the men looked at my broom and immediately said, "Quidditch?" I did not hear him, and asked, "What?" but at that point, his friend had prodded him and they all began playing their drums. When they finished, they went around the subway car asking for donations and wishing people a good day. Then, when they all sat down again, the same gentleman turned to me and said, "Is that for Quidditch?" I didn't understand what he was talking about until I saw him point to my broom and that was when I realized that my broom handle was decked out in red and gold plastic.

"Oh!" I laughed, suddenly understanding the reference.
"Do you know what I'm talking about?" he asked.
"Yes!" I told him excitedly. "The Harry Potter books?"
"Yeah. Have you seen the movies?" he asked me. At this point, his friends had gathered around and were looking at my broom as well. They smiled.
"No, I haven't seen all the movies. Most of them..." I answered him. "But I read all the books."
"That broom looks like a Quidditch broom with the..."
"Red and gold." I confirmed, nodding. "Gryffindor colors."
"Yes!" He and his friends began to talk excitedly, but the subway stopped right then and they got off, still talking about the broom.

When I got home later, I was so excited about the broom that I moved all of Matt's things aside and swept the whole apartment three times. The entire time, I pretended that I was the Mickey Mouse character from The Sorcerer's Apprentice, enchanting my broom to do my work for me. Sometimes, I do love my imagination. When Matt came home, I told him the whole story and he went over to take a look at the broom as well. He thought it was awesome and he ended up really liking it. After that, we walked around barefoot the rest of the evening, enjoying the feel of smartly swept floor.

Swan Lake

My friends Susan, Susanna, and I went hiking to a place I named Swan Lake. It was a hiking trail near my friend Susanna's house and the weather was actually nice: 46 degrees and warm outside, only a slight chilly breeze. When we got to the lake, we looked out over the water and the swans floating there. About half of them were white, the other half black. There was also a bird of prey gliding around above them, a black hawk, I believe.

"Don't underestimate a swan," my friend Susan said.
"Are they dangerous?" I asked quietly, eyes wide.
She only nodded, her eyes wide, too.
"Don't ever underestimate a swan," she repeated.

A moment later, "I like the diamonds on the water," Susanna commented. I looked towards where she was staring. There were diamonds of light dancing on the water, serene and peaceful. I got that nature feeling once again, the feeling that this was where I belonged, not sitting behind a desk doing paperwork in order to make a living. I could live in that shack there, I thought, my eyes resting on a small, run-down shack on a natural land bridge over the water. Then I could chop firewood when it got cold, gather food every day...and just watch the water in my free time. A part of me liked that. A part of me wanted that harsh, bare, spartan lifestyle where I would always be hungry, usually be cold, but forever be free. Maybe some day, I repeated to myself again. Maybe some day.

We headed back soon and I said good-bye to my friends before I went home. I spent the hour-long drive back listening to soft romantic piano music and musing. Then, when I was listening to Moon River by Henry Mancini, I couldn't help but notice how well it fit in with peaceful, warm, early spring days--gems in the normally harsh and extreme temperatures of the Northeast United States.

Even now, I still go back there sometimes, go back to that day on Swan Lake, watching the swans and the diamonds dancing on the water, wondering what life would be like if all that I had to do everyday was just survive.

Springtime!

Spring is finally here! Today was the first day I felt like it was finally here, anyway. There have been yellow tulips and violets growing on the leafy banks of a creek that runs by my house and my lawn is dotted by these tiny white flowers. I love them so much and feel so bad about stepping on them that when I walk home from school, I go all the way around them and take the winding sidewalk to my front step instead of trampling all over the lawn. I hope my landlord doesn't cut the grass any time soon. These little flowers bring such joy walking to and from school that I will be very sad if he cuts them up along with the grass. Aside from that, the weather was so gorgeous that I took advantage of it by walking to the farmer's market to buy groceries. I also bought sunscreen at the dollar store for the scorching summer days ahead.

Also, even though I'm glad that springtime is here, I felt it arrived all in one day. The weather for the past month has been strange, fluctuating up and down with several cold, windy days peppered with days that SEEM like spring is here. O Mother Nature, thou are a finicky mistress. Now that the first day of spring is here, the temperature went from 12.2 degrees Celsius in the morning (that's 54 degrees Fahrenheit for you standard system folk) to 26.1 degrees Celsius by mid-afternoon (79 F)! When I was driving home from internship, I rolled down the windows to feel the breeze, but it got so heated in the car that I had to give up, roll up the windows, and turn on the air conditioning. This coming from a woman who can tolerate 34 degree C (94 F) weather in long jeans and a jacket! Well, springtime, you sure do know how to roll in all at once.