Prompt: Five items I lust after.
When writing about the characteristics of my Zodiac sign recently, there was one thing that really stood out to me.
While money is a necessary evil, most don’t spend a lot of time worrying about where their next dollar is coming from. They don’t put much thought into balancing their checkbooks, yet they manage to get by just fine.
I don’t lust after items. I don’t covet things I don’t have. I rarely window shop. Going through a divorce and reducing your income by half makes you take stock of what’s important. Thinking about things I don’t have just makes me a little sad, and life is too short to be sad. The one material possession I’ve lusted after recently was my new laptop. It took me more than a year to save for it because I couldn’t stomach financing even a few hundred dollars of it. Every time I used my almost 6-year-old iBook G4, I thought about the MacBook Pro I now have. But ask me what I want for Christmas or for my birthday … and I don’t normally have an answer. I need some new measuring spoons, I could use some new cookie sheets, too. Material things just aren’t on my priority list.
I realize not everyone is like this. Number 5 used to talk about all the things he wanted: Cars, motorcycles, big(er)-screen TVs. He talked about them constantly, always trying to figure out how he could make it work financially. I always wondered if he’d ever be happy with what he has. Considering how he ended things with us, I doubt it.
So while I don’t lust after items, there are things, feelings, and situations that I desire.
- I lust for laugher. I love to laugh, almost more than anything. I love to laugh with friends while sitting on front porches. I love to laugh with friends while drinking wine and watching dogs dig up gardens. I love to laugh while texting with old friends from high school — I don’t mind that co-workers may be looking at me and wondering what I’m laughing about. I gravitate toward people who make me laugh. Whether you’re having your own Canadian blond moment, we’re sharing stories about growing up in semi-dysfunctional families, or you’re firing off a quick and witty comeback to my own smart-ass comment — I laugh and I’m happy. It may only be for a few minutes or an evening, but it’s a relationship I value highly because we can laugh. I honestly believe that is the best kind of relationship to have.
- I lust for time when I can disconnect. This is probably the only material thing I could lust for — plane tickets. Preferably to someplace without cell service. When I visit my cousin in Colorado, I feel more relaxed than I do anywhere in California. I don’t know if it’s the change in scenery, the beauty of being in the snow, the time spent skiing or playing in the snow, or the fact that I can just relax there and not be judged or have expectations placed on me by anyone. We don’t have to get up and be anywhere, we can just be. I’d love to go on a cruise again … out there in the middle on the ocean where you can’t check your email or get a text. It’s about relaxation and fun.
- I lust for safety and stability for my son. I want him to have a neighborhood to grow up in like I did. I want more than anything for him to have friends whom he’s known for decades. I don’t want to move him anymore, I’ve made that mistake. Our next move this summer will be our last for a very, very long time. I won’t make the same mistakes again. He needs the roots like I had. He needs the memories of which leaves fall from which trees, the exact location of the cracks in the sidewalks, the places he fell, the places he skinned his knee, the house with the scary dog, the house with the best friends. He needs a neighborhood that he can look back on over time and remember when the trees were small, when houses were painted, when landscaping was changed. He needs a place that he can come back to as an adult, and have it feel like home.
- I lust for conversation. I love to talk, always have. My grandma used to call me her little Ms. Chatterbox when I was younger. The hardest time of day for me is the time after my son goes to bed until I go to bed. I miss having someone to talk to. I admit it, I get lonely. Maybe that’s a sign of weakness to some people. I just think it’s a sign of being human. I miss having someone to share my day with, to hear about their day, to talk about a movie or TV show, or political issues. Some nights I’m so busy or so tired during this time that I don’t notice the emptiness. But the many nights I do notice are rough.
- I lust for the future. I don’t know what’s in store for us, but I in my gut, I feel it’s going to be great. And even if it isn’t, we’ve come this far, there isn’t much that can destroy us now.