[note: harvested from my journal circa 2008]
how many lives would I have to live to do all the things I would have liked to do?
International class track athlete: Paris, Oslo, Bislet, Eugene. Trainers, coaches, agents, Athletes’ Village. Injuries, ice, sponsorships, qualifying times.
Single girl in the Big CIty: writer, temp, model, girlfriend, mistress. New York, Boston, Chicago, LA. Manolos, Birken bags, boobs, Botox.
World traveler, humanitarian: Lagos, Sudan, Darfur, Cote d’Ivoire. French, Swahili, politician, do-gooder, sand, sun, dust, blood, tears.
There are so many more: chef, marine biologist, horsewoman, travel agent, photographer, intellectual, journalist. Munich, Paris, London, Madrid.
Tonight, I am mom, mommy, momma. Cheerios, otter pops, pickle and mustard sandwiches. The beach the pool, the soccer field, school. Two small feet in my back, one hand enveloped in mine, another stroking my cheek in sleep.
How many lives would you need, to be all the things you want to be?