What do you want?
This often seems like the most difficult question to answer – whether it’s what do you want this day to be or what you do want your life to be.
World peace rolls off my tongue, but as to what Rachel wants, I’m often stumped.
Maybe I wanted this messy life, filled with love and beauty, trials and error, poetry and trash memes, friends who stay, friends who come and go, friends who leave, indelible lovers and lovers easily forgotten. Hot mess.
At one point, I would have said I wanted to be somebody important, maybe someone famous owing to a life of publishing literary wonders that explained multitudes. At another, I wanted a family – a passel of possum joeys – all huddled and cuddled in a king size bed. And in its recent iteration, I wanted more time and space to breathe and be (spoiler alert: I got it).
I have formed a habit of not wanting or wishing for a future I know nothing about, not in fear of disappointment, but only to leave myself receptive to wonder at what comes next. It’s never truly what I envision but often times it can be construed as what I wanted, only transformed into the unexpected, and always with a dash of are you kidding me?
