To Answer Your Question: Part 8
“Do You Still Have Your Imagination?”
It’s been a minute since you’ve harassed me with your questions, but it seems like you’re dipping your toes back into it here recently. You struck gold earlier this year from your backseat throne in my car. It was quiet, and you said, “Hey. Do you know what I do sometimes when I’m back here?” Naturally, I started preparing myself for the most messed up answer I could fathom. I nervously asked, “What?” You quipped, “I just use my imagination.” Relieved as hell, I said, “Cool cool cool. I see that sometimes when I look back there and see you looking out the window.”
Then, you asked me, “Hey, do you still have your imagination?”
Not going to lie, that shit was wildly offensive. Of course, I still have my imagination! I use it all the time to get through life as an adult that could’ve sworn she’s 22, but she’s actually about to turn 34. I use it every time I put on a crop top and pretend I can’t hear you talking trash about it to my face. I use it every time I draft out a long text message to my enemies in my notes app that I’ll never actually send.
But, mostly, I use my imagination to think about what I want my work life to look like in the future. I’m still riding such a high on this career change, and a lot of my self-worth comes from my work. I love my job as a copywriter, and being on a marketing team is actually a blast. It’s been about a year now since I left education to do this full-time from home, and I’ve never been more fulfilled professionally. It is so rewarding to work on project-based work because I get to experience immediate gratification for my efforts. With teaching, I’d have to wait months or even years to get gratification, and even that was a gamble. I’m not saying education is horrible, but I am saying that I’ve learned my personality is better suited for a different kind of work with a different type of result. But, I know I’m not done. I have this desire to amp it up and build my marketing skills to better support my team. I want to keep going because it gives me this strength that I think is probably comparable to people who become addicted to working out. Once I knew I could be better, I wanted to feel better. Now that I know how to feel better, I want to keep going. I imagine myself working like this while also working on creative writing projects. I imagine myself one day taking on a major editing position. I imagine myself one day publishing something beautiful. I imagine these things regularly. I really hope you do the same when you become an adult. Be a lifetime learner. Keep your mind sharp. You’ll never exhaust all there is to know, so you might as well try to learn something new every day. Get everything you can out of this life, my love. Wring it out like a wet washcloth.
Romantically, I imagine my love life. Despite my divorce from your dad, there’s still a large part of me that holds out hope for romance and partnership. The further I get away from the time I was married, the more I learn about myself and what I want out of life. It was a hard lesson to learn, but the only positive option now is to be grateful for it and make the best choices I can with the knowledge I have now. I love you more than I love myself or anything else, but I don’t imagine life being just the two of us forever. I value every moment with you, but there is a small part of me that dies every time I set the table for two. I want another adult in this house to share moments with. I know you can feel the loneliness sometimes, too, and I’m sorry for that. I imagine finding someone who can be a true partner to me. Ideally, this person would be someone I could share almost everything with (i.e. moments with friends, my family, laughter, good food, even better cocktails, honest fears, etc.). You won’t always be seven. One day, you’ll graduate and go to college, and I will do nothing but encourage that growth and transition. I just wonder what that time in life looks like for me when you’re gone. I have no interest in guilt-tripping you into staying wherever I am when that time comes. I need you to go and find yourself and grow. I just also know that you cannot be my only identifier because, one day, you’ll have to leave, and I will need to know who I am when you’re gone. My personality is such that I know I want to share life with someone. I imagine life with a man I adore and respect. I imagine cooking meals together, drunken date nights, vacations, comedy shows, concerts, camping, holidays, and lazy mornings reading in bed with a person made especially for me. I don’t wish to be alone; I simply make the best of it for now.
Controversially, I sometimes imagine what I would do with my life if I had never married or become a parent. Don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t mean I wish I never had you. It’s more so a challenge to myself to continuously go after what I really want in life, at least to the best of my ability now. If I had never married, I think I would have eventually found the courage to move to a bigger city by myself. Right before I met your dad, I planned on moving to Richmond, Virginia for graduate school and I was going to au pair for a friend of a friend. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had gone to Richmond instead of getting engaged. I imagine I’d be in a bigger city, maybe working some kind of editing job.
I’d live a life where I’d romanticize everything: my trips to the coffee shop, the museum, and the library. I’d buy myself flowers at a flower stand. I’d come home to visit for the holidays. It’s interesting that when I imagine this life, I don’t imagine a man with me at all. I just imagine myself. I often take this energy and try to apply it to my actual life. I still romanticize my trips to Lasaters for coffee, my solo dates to the Frist, and my visits to the library here in town. I’ve developed a bad habit of buying myself flowers from Publix after every nail appointment because, fuck it, why not? I imagine the things I’d want someone to give me or the dates I’d want someone to take me on, and then I just give them to myself.
Sadly, I sometimes imagine Grandma is still here. There are days when I crave a talk on the porch with her. I love talking to my friends, but they support me no matter what, so who knows if I can trust their advice. I love talking to my family, but they become defensive against whoever I’m complaining about. Grandma had a way of listening and offering a response that made me believe none of it was the end of the world. I guess that kind of reaction can really only come from someone with age anyway. Her perspective was disarming, entertaining, and comforting all at once. I can’t seem to find that in anyone else. I used to be able to tell her anything and none of it would really shock her. I told her several secrets and she never flinched. Lately, I’ve taken on this habit of talking to her picture aloud when you’re not here. I don’t go full Miss Havisham, but I say a few things aloud to her when they come to mind. The placeholder picture is actually pretty effective. Sometimes, when you’re not here, I have a few drinks and sing a few songs to her while I clean because she used to ask me and Auntie Stacie to sing to her when we were kids. She’d tell me she wanted me to sing at her funeral and I never did. I’m ashamed that I didn’t, so now I try to make up for that when the mood strikes. I know that probably sounds weird as hell, but try to understand that it feels right for me. All cultures have different norms when it comes to loved ones that have passed, and it’s okay if we make new norms for ourselves.
Ridiculously, I often imagine myself killing it with some choreography. I’ve always loved dancing. Kirsten and I used to make up dances when we were kids, and we’d make the family watch us perform. In school, I’d be the first one at every school dance and the last one to leave the dance floor. Nan can tell you how wrecked I used to look when she’d pick me up after a school dance. I love watching choreographed dances online even today. I always imagine myself in their shoes and the thrill I’d feel to surprise everyone in the audience with my superior talent. Who knows if it will ever happen. Currently, I’m toying with the idea of taking bachata lessons in Nashville, but it seems like an unnecessary expense. If, by the time you read this, I’m a classically trained bachata dancer, then you’ll know my passion originated when you were in the first grade. If your eventual step father’s name is Benito, or something similar, then it’s probably safe to assume he was my first instructor.
So, yeah, I still have my imagination. Everyone maintains their imagination and it just becomes a personal choice to feed into it or not. Sometimes, your imagination can be purely creative and you can come up with new, cool ideas or things you want to make that don’t exist yet. Other times, your imagination can just be a new way of seeing your life that is fueled in hope. I think you probably live in the first explanation and I’m living in the second. I’m not so sure one is exclusively meant for children and the other is meant for adults. That would suck. I just know I’m not usually a creative person, but I do enjoy imagining different scenarios and possibilities for myself.
I hope you never lose your imagination, whether you’re being creative or reimagining the life you want. I don’t care if you’re 80 years old, I hope you’re using your imagination to figure out how you’re going to hit on Nancy at the next bingo night. (Actually, I just imagined this and it made me so depressed to think of you as an 80-year-old man. So, maybe tread lightly with your imagination. It’s not always your friend.)
But, you know what? One of my best moments with my imagination was when I was pregnant with you.
I dreamt of you when I was pregnant, but you were four years old in my dream. I remember exactly what you looked like in that dream. I even told Nan that I dreamt of you and I knew what you were going to look like at four years old, and I was totally right. When you were four, you looked exactly like how I saw you in that dream.
So, there’s some magic to our imaginations. It doesn’t really go away with age. You have to just nurture it and lean in a bit.
Always lean into it, babe. Imagine what you want, lean into it, and watch it happen. And, then keep repeating that process. So far, this method has led me to a more authentic life for myself. It’s not perfect, but when I turn back to look at how far I’ve come, I know I’m the closest I’ve ever been to my wildest dreams.
And, Mama’s only getting started.
