January 23, 2002 - 8.31pm
Last night, my roommate Ella and I were over at Laine's place watching some TV (Scrubs. Scrubs is great. GREAT!) and the door opened. "Huh" we thought. That's truly odd. So Laine goes out to see what's going on, and I follow, and there is this incredibly precious little guy with dark hair and big dark eyes carrying a red ballon, just walking down the hall like he did that every day, and my heart melted. He was adorable. And I saw the look on Laine's face. Her heart melted too. And that so fits in with the theme of my dreams these days.
The dream that stands out most vividly is one I had a few nights ago, where first I was pregnant, and then I gave birth to a tiny, beautiful baby girl, but not too tiny. She was perfect. I remember showing her off to someone in my dream, and running my hand over her silky smooth head and tracing her translucent eyelids, and feeling so proud and fufilled. Then like dreams do, she was about five, with long dark hair and she adored me. She thought I was her yahoo hero, the coolest person ever and she loved me. And I loved her. With this perfect love, this mixture of adoration and worry and desire for her to grow up to be the whole person I knew she could be, and I saw her in flashes as an adult, this poised, confident, beautiful, successful woman, and as she's growing up, laughing, crying, but I'm her best friend. And I woke up with this ache.
I hate that. Because man for a 19 year old, I have so many baby issues that it's unbelievable. I can't go to a department store and not finger the tiny baby things, and I know I shouldn't. I know this is just something I have to get used to. But I want it so badly. I want a baby. I don't know that I've ever said that out loud before. (or on the screen, whatever) I think I could be a really great mom, and I feel like it may be one of those things I was put on this earth to do. The irony is, I can't. I can be the Mom Figure in our group, I can be auntie Em to Laine's kids, and Ella's, and my sisters, but I can't be the yahoo hero the best friend, the mom who fixes the hurts and laughs and drops everything for a picnic, the mom who brings cupcakes to school, the mom who sits at the coffee table and colors on Saturdays and who makes cocoa when he's sick. The mom who reads stories every night before bed always two, one she choses and one I chose, always the same one. Good Night Moon. I want to look in on a sleeping form in one of those soft yellow sleepers, scrunched up and breathing loud baby breaths, to kiss a soapy smelling forhead, to pack lunches in bright lunch boxes. I want to do all those things. I want other things too, you know, I want to be a social worker, I want to write, I want to have a career and a life, but I wish that could be a part of it.
But at least, maybe it will be a part of Laine's. And maybe I'll get to live vicariously through her.
In other news, I auditioned for THE REAL WORLD today as like a, "hey, Ella is going and she wants me to go too." So we went. And heart break of heart breaks, we weren't cast. Anyway.
