I was merrily on my way home from work on a somewhat cold but sunny Friday. My brain was reeling a little from a plethora of projects I’m working on, so I put down the magazine I was reading, figuring a pop psychology wasn’t going to help me clear my head. Realizing I actually had headphones in my purse, I plugged in my phone to listen to music. I don’t usually listen to music on the train. I don’t listen to music enough in general anymore. When I drive I’m devoted to NPR, and otherwise I usually opt for pandora which used to work pretty well on the subway, but now it breaks up often enough to annoy me. So when I looked at the limited amount of music on my phone I opted for some Gaga.
Next thing I know I’m listening to Speechless on repeat as I walk home from the Damen stop.
So of course when I got home the logical thing was for me to download Natalie Merchant’s entire Retrospective album because I don’t own any of her other albums, and I wanted Life is Sweet. I poured myself mix drink of sparkling water and lemonade wishing it could be wine instead or even vodka and remembered how we listened to these songs and just cried together in your apartment.
I know we’ve both been missing each other lately. I think it’s interesting that it has happened at such a palpable level to us both at the same time. I wish I could see you and spend some quality time laughing and talking and crying. It’s hard for me to fathom that the last time I saw you you were radiant in the after glow of your wedding and the next time I see you I’m likely to have a baby in my arms. A baby that I pushed out of my vagina.
I wish you were here to give me input on the nursery, or help me pick out good songs to labor to, or just to help me think about things that aren’t baby or work related for a little while. It’s amazing how much space in my brain those two subjects occupy. I wish I knew more about your trip to Vietnam, and how your first year and a newlywed is going. I wish we could record more videos to Jared together or better yet that he could be here because I miss him too. I miss the three of us hissing our way through Ikea on Labor Day.
Last night I put on Little Plastic Castle for the first time in a very long time. I danced a little around our kitchen listening to the familiar words. For a moment I was 20 again.
Love from Chicago,