I’ve been pining over this picture all night. It’s a room in an empty building on Main Street, a building that used to be a bed and breakfast. There are other fabulous rooms in the building, a cottage out back and a courtyard that desperately, DESPERATELY, needs strings of twinkling lights dangling overhead. See? It could be…magic.
So, I’ve sat here most of the evening with my laptop perched on a pillow in my lap, dreaming of all of the things I could do with a big empty space. “This is what I need,” I said to my husband. He looked tense; that uh-oh she’s got an idea look I see so often. The same one he had when I told him we had to drive 90 miles at ten o’clock at night to get a futon I bought on Craigslist or when I quit my magazine job to sell makeup and stay home with our daughter.
“What? You don’t think I need a place like that? We could open a boutique reception hall! We could host small weddings, showers, birthday parties! It would be magical!”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Want to see if there’s anything on TV?”
I sighed. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
He didn’t have to say anything. I must admit, I felt a little crushed. Mad, even. How could he not believe in me? Why doesn’t he see magic where I see magic?
And after a mug of pity ice cream, I realized I wasn’t mad at him. The truth is, I know exactly what I want to do. I want to write. I want to paint. I want to refinish furniture and plan parties and tape blue streamers and construction paper fish all over our house so we can eat dinner under the sea. I want to wear red, heart-shaped glasses even though I’m almost thirty; Ha! I want to do that BECAUSE I’m almost thirty. I want to dress up in flapper clothes and go see The Great Gatsby. What I don’t know is why I feel the need to find a title like I’m in a game of Old Maid. Do you ever feel that way? Like you know exactly who you are but you feel like you need permission to own it?
Well…what do you say we give each other permission to just be who we were made to be? I’ll start:
I am Amanda. I fantasize about owning an adult-sized big wheel.
I fight strong urges to do cartwheels in the aisles of Wal-mart.
I listen to gangsta’ (excuse me, gangster) rap with my toddler in the car when I’m stressed…which is often.
If I were to liken my creative interests to food, writing would be spinach and crafting would be a bag of Doritos. I’m healthiest when I’m writing but let’s be honest, I’d rather have glitter in one hand and a glue gun in the other.
Remember when girls were wearing the “I’m a Carrie” or “I’m a Samantha” shirts a few years ago? I could not relate to one of those women. I do, however, identify with Tinker Bell. It’s actually scary how much I relate to Tinker Bell.
This picture…this picture is EXACTLY who I am.
So there, now you know. Maybe I look like I don’t know what I’m doing but really, I just like doing a little bit of everything. And I know that I’ve grown up to be what I’ve always been; a messy, impulsive, paint-covered, sunshine-loving girl who can make magic things with enough space.
What about you, friend?