Dreamy

I hold in my heart this dream.  

A dream of living right next door to my twin sister and letting our kids come and go out of each other's homes.  

"Just drop Beck off while you run to the grocery store," I'd say, followed quickly to a phone call to Ky asking her what I can pick up for her at the store while I'm there.  "Go to Aunt Ky's house and score a sweet treat and play with Beck while your at it," I'd say and shoo him out the door knowing full well he would be welcomed into her home and would be loved and nurtured so I could straighten up our house.  "Let's fill up the little pool in the backyard and I'll grab some Diet Cokes,"  I'd say as we park ourselves on the back patio, sipping soda and talking about the great mysteries of life consisting of the Bachelorette and how to get the musty smell out of our towels when we wash them (vinegar, I would gladly report, and we would resume solving the worlds problems).  It would be a little too quiet and I walk on over to Ky's house to see my son playing basketball with his little cousin as Ky prepares them a little snack.  "Let's go running in the morning," I'd say and we would set our alarms to the crack of dawn and both sleep through them.  "Come over for breakfast," I'd say where we would spend our morning figuring out what splendid meal we could cook for our husbands that evening.  "Sawyer is running a fever, what should I do?"  I'd say, followed by a "I'll be there in a sec and assess the situation," followed by a "take him to the doctor and don't worry about dinner, I'm making soup and will bring you guys some."   "I'm bored," I'd say and walk over to my twin's house who is also bored... and we are bored together.  "I'm feeling so overwhelmed with life," I'd say, and she would send me out my door to take some time to myself while Sawyer could watch an episode of Curious George with his cousin.  And the best part is when no words are ever spoken, it just happens.  We sit in our lawn chairs in our driveway letting the sun hang low and watch our children run back and forth and enjoy watching. we would laugh.  and we would cry.  and our husbands would talk about sports and work.  and all would be right in the world until the street lights came on and the man in the moon announced himself and we would carry our sleepy babes inside... knowing full well we would get to do the same thing the next evening.  and the next.

Queue a reality check.

My genetic other half lives 300+ miles away from me.  We talk on the phone when there is time between tantrums and work and snuggles.  We enjoy sunsets under the same sun and same man on the moon, albeit in different states.  There are pools filled in back yards and diet cokes drank with pictures taken to prove to each other that they are happening at the exact same time.  There are recipes swapped for tantalizing dinners made for our hard working husbands, and there are alarms that are set and slept through.  And even though there are miles that separate us, we are living a different kind of dream.  and I still know Beck and he knows me.  and Sawyer still wants to show his aunt his cool new tricks.  and I still call her when Sawyer is grouchy and is driving me bonkers so she can hear him tell his emotional story of how mean his mom is for not letting him wear his favorite jersey today.  and Beck still shows me his room through the miracle of technology and I get to read him stories and sing him songs.  We are living my dream.  A different dream than I envisioned.  But still the dream.  It hurts to let go of the perfection of my dream.  It hurts to yearn for the snuggles of my little nephew.  It stings at my heart to not get to go to Beck's soccer games and basketball games.  It's rotten that I can't bake up his favorite cookie to entice him over to play.  And when I will myself to be still, I see that I am still living my dream.  in a different way. a very different way.  But I am living it. I choose not to let the dream pass me by.

Sometimes it hurts too much to dream. and so I surrender myself to black numbness and power through, willing myself to not see the colors of my reality.  Colors that are a different hue of my dream.

And so there lives and breathes a challenge.  To cultivate relationships at a distance.  To read and snuggle and nurture a nephew that is miles away.  To let go of the vibrant colored dream of my innermost heart in order to see the multi-colored hues in my everyday world. 

To dream can be lonely.  To be a dreamer can be courageous and brave.  Where is that line drawn between dream and dreamer?  Only our hearts can know.