I did not wish, therefore, it did not come true. Now I will wish. I wish, on this first day of 2009, that I will fall in love with a wonderful soul.
Halfway into my twenty-ninth year, I do not know if not “wishing” got me where I am today, or if wishes are just aimless thoughts tossed into a pool that never actually fall into place. At 13, or 9, or 6 years old, whatever age it is that a little girl starts to dream about the perfect wedding, when the crib will finally hold an infant or two and whether or not she will be President of the United States, I was thinking about playing outside, laughing and if I was even capable of thinking this “I was just living the dream” every day.
If I were to just focus on the “dream of the perfect wedding” portion of my childhood days. My thoughts were null and void. As the years have come and gone, I have seen friends, family and acquaintances, young and old, fall in love, with wonderful and not so wonderful people, get married, get divorced, find another love, have a loved one pass on, then find another true love, and carry through the rollercoaster of life always with a, for lack of better terms, significant other.
I situate myself in a different category of “dreamers.” The category that nothing tremendously great happens. No “true love.” No “soul mate.” No “the one.” Nothing of the above that shake me to my core. I find myself okay with this somewhat “bizarre” situation. And I will remain okay with it.
I am only 29. For some reason, in this great place of the Midwest where I live, there is this urban myth floating above that all must be married out of college, have babies, settle down. End life as they know it. I remain confident that the entire exciting world out there doesn’t have this notion, because, people east, west north and south bubble about at 30, 32, even 35 and single and enjoying it. Marriage can wait until I am done living my own life and decide I am ready to join someone else and being partly responsible for their happiness.
One day the obnoxious and almost nauseating statements questioning the whereabouts of the illusive “boyfriend” will come to a, hopefully, screeching halt. Maybe they will stop because through the door I will stroll with the “mystery man.” Or, maybe they will stop because they will just give up hope.
I will not give up hope. I will continue wishing. But I will not stop living the great life that I have now.