How we're confused with our paths because we had these clear dreams, and then something changed, and they aren't clear. We are complex creatures and want so much from life, and want to give so much, and want to end up in these beautiful places of love that just may not be orthodox. Okay, knowing us, they WON'T be orthodox.
And how we don't know what paths to follow because there isn't one to the places we want to arrive at. How people who have ended up where we want to be, or close, have done so pretty much accidentally; how those who are said to "forge their own paths" often do so accidentally, or have the term applied in hindsight. How few people decide from the get go, "I am going to create this starting from this moment and I am going to forge an entirely new path to end up where I want to be." Yes, allowing certain circumstantial changes, but having that the general gist.
So we were messaging about it. And once more, we are completely in the same place with it all. I grow more thankful every day for my sister (podling, stardust, anything - she is my sister) and knowing that as I sit here with these thoughts people consider 'out-there' and unfounded or too introspective or too 'thinky' or generally not help at this present moment...that there is another out there, perhaps not like in blood but like in love and family equally, thinking many of the same things.
As we were discussing it I realised I was beginning to sound like a Dr. Seuss book: Oh, the Places You'll Go! I offered to read it and she was game. She put in headphones and I made the call.
I read through the book, showing two pictures and replacing some words/lines to keep it gender-neutral (I think Dr. Seuss would have approved regardless). It just resonated with me once more, especially reading it with someone thinking the same thoughts as I.
I'm awake at 3.33, my gay boyfriend's time (she knows all about gay boyfriends). I have a poster due in tomorrow that I'm still gathering pictures for and will have to put together tomorrow morning and present tomorrow evening... but it all seem so inconsequential when I experience moments like this. Moments that I know I will remember until I die, beyond the time I remember what poster I was working on or what class or what year even.
Just the sort of moments that when I am older and people ask me, "What do you remember at university?" I can answer, "Well, once I read a children's book to my sister over the ocean because we were in similar places and it shared a similar story. Oh, the Places You'll Go! by Dr. Seuss. My mother's book her friend gave her around college."
I am still confused. I still don't necessarily know where I'm going, through posters and degrees and travels. I'm still not always okay with that.
But I am content in feeling this, and in connection and in a life in which I can read Dr. Seuss as a near-20-something to a sister I have been lucky enough to find in my lifetime. I am thankful for moments I will remember, these beautiful moments of present-life-contentment (over-riding future-life confusion) and knowing these moments for what they are at an intrinsic level.
I can get through these times. And I hope that when anxieties and stresses try to subvert this, hide it, jumble my mind until my heart and these moments are hidden...that I will remember at least a fraction of them anyway, and feel at peace at my core, even if my limbs and mind-goo-tentacles continue flailing.
This is peace and love.
P.S. I apologise for stealing your book, Mum; but thank you for this moment - it certainly has further generational value now! It will be returned to you in good order with more memories attached.