Well, one of these days, I’ll be married and I’ll have babies like the rest of the nation and I’ll live in a nice brick house with an automatic garage door and there will be wooden railings and I’ll have a car to drive into the city every day. One of these days, I’ll be one of those mothers who worries about the wellbeing of her children and perhaps I’ll even stay up late into the night, thinking about what they have become and how it wasn’t what I had expected but perhaps I’ll still be happy. Perhaps by then I’ll be off my medication and I’ll have quit smoking and I’ll have my very own business cards with my name on it. And I’ll have a closet that is full of clothes — business clothes on one side, and home clothes on the other. I’ll think about the times when I was young and when I dreamed of girls I went to class with and how they’d chase me around in those
dreams nightmares in which we’d go to confession and Father would refuse to see me because he said that it was getting late and soon it would be dark. I have a lantern, I had said, but he merely shook his head in a strange, strange sort of agonized way. Well, I’ll have purchased a king sized bed so that we can each have our respective sides of it; no more fighting over the duvet like we used to when we were young and broke and lived in our one-room apartment on the West Side. He sleeps unsoundly and wakes at the slightest of noises; the whistling of the wintertime wind and the branches being knocked against the panes of our master bedroom window would surely send him back into this waking world. I am silent but not motionless. That wakes him too. The dreams nightmares won’t ever stop, will they? I have wondered it for long. I think about how we transform into people we’d never thought’d enter into this world, until we embody them for ourselves. Indeed, ten years ago I was different. Indeed, ten years ago I never would have pictured myself the way I am now. I think about them — my unborn children — and I wonder, what will you be like? Will you be as desperate, impulsive, and whimsical as I? Or will you be like your father — patient and soft, but unbending? I frequently doubt myself in my capacity to contribute to this world, granted, I am still young. I am resistant to doubt and I desire a life without it. I want to be all that I can for my children but I also want to be all that I can for other people’s children. It’s quite a mess; this world’s a mess.
I hope you’ll understand.