after a two-week hiatus in the neverland of home — that place where, robert frost reminds us, “when you go there, they have to let you in” — i am sitting contemplating the eve of my life as a Real Person.
(you must understand what a momentous event it is for me to lift my embargo on capital letters.)
it has been a peculiar couple of weeks. i have eaten far more fat and sugar than my poor body is accustomed to. i have been utterly enchanted by two men named john (adams and updike). i have sent and received several wanton text messages. i have allowed myself the understanding that many things that were once my sole responsibility are no longer even my concern. i have become the owner of a car, an umbrella, and a phone that is smarter than i am. and i have allowed myself to be intimidated, just a little, by the prospect of leaving neverland.
but i’m convinced that Real Life, unlike my phone, is only pretending to be smarter than i am. lots of people do it, and i’m smarter than lots of people. i can write checks, pump gas, cook, and wait in line. i can do lots of other things, too.
on sunday morning when i wake up, i will make coffee, and i will check my email, and i will shower. it will all be Real. and it will be no different.