I've been watering a plastic succulent in the backyard for at least six weeks and congratulating myself on it staying green through our variable summer weather. The realization knocked hard against my head last night when I watered it - and then pinched the leaves only to finally realize that they are NOT REAL. A fine blow to the ego, that was.
It's good to be humble, but I am sending a plea to the universe to stop reminding me of my imperfections. Could I maybe just go a week of pretending that I can do this "adulting" thing? Sure it was hard to send the kids back to school but my brain should still remember how to function - I've been shuttling them off to fall semesters for the last sixteen years.
Age, or denial? Who knows what's really at fault. I do know that I had a blast last night at our "Willowstock" neighborhood festival, catching up with friends (though we had to search a while to find the people in our age group) and then drinking adult beverages and spontaneously singing along to "The End of the World as We Know It." The band played a few more covers like "The Rain King" by Counting Crows and others from the 1990s, which indicated to all that the bandmembers were around our age.
And a little beacon of hope, a ray of light courtesy of my brother Michael's announcement that he and Pam are having a baby in February - convinced me that I still have little ones to hold and christenings to attend.(That are unrelated to my own children / becoming a grandmother very early). A harbinger of hope and youth, a reminder that life is always joyful right around the corner, plastic plants notwithstanding.
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