Like most people, I have a lot of random thoughts all the time. Sometimes I just keep them to myself, only to mourn them later when I forget them. For those rare times that I find my thoughts are publish-worthy, I think I should be able to put them here. I'm allowed to do that because it's my blog.
On my way home on board a bus, I entertained some dreamy thoughts about some secrets.
One of my deepest secrets is that sometimes I really just want to be a real grown-up. I know I'm already 29 and will be 30 soon but living in the metro, which is sort of like every rural girl's dream, makes me feel and act younger than my actual age. The hustle and bustle, the hype, the traffic jam - all these reverberates to the very core of my physical self and they serve as my instant age-defying vitamin. I feel old, however, when I'm checking out the hot buys of metro malls. I dunno why. When I see a pretty dress and it won't fit all right, I suddenly feel old blaming myself for not watching my diet. When I survey the shelves in the surpermarket, I feel old when an inner voice tells me to stop buying junk foods. Health is wealth. When I face the mirror and see some fine lines in my forehead, an alarm clock would tick inside my head.
Then being a real grown-up leads me to one nagging thought. I'm holding my breath for the consequences of this honest blog of mine. OK, I'll spill now.
All I really want is to meet the man I'm going to marry and start growing up beside him. I want to call him from work to see how his day is going and then he'd ask me the same. I prefer actually if he'd call me first. I will tell him I'm having a bad hair day and that my head is very itchy due to dandruff (one of the ill effects of random searching of hair shampoo in the grocery aisle) and he will tell me to keep quiet and tell me how pretty I am. Then I want to go home to our adorable house and find him there, cooking dinner and listening to our common favorite artist. Surprise, surprise, he'd say. His work allows him to go home early and he thinks of his lovely woman while driving home. And then I'll drop my shoulder bag on the sofa and walk over to him and he will hug me while he drops the pot holder. I want to tell him that it's my turn to cook and that he can go to the living room and watch TV. With the absence of intelligent TV shows, he will put off the idiot box and will ask me, over and over again, how my day was, who the monsters of my day are, while kissing me.... I'll let my imagination run wild here at this point. And then dinner will be left cold in the kitchen.
I want to wake up beside my man every morning and laugh because he fell asleep in the middle of our big bed. I want to reach over and try my best to move him beside me, and I want to hear him grumble sleepily in protest before he rolls over and wraps his arms around me. I want to sigh because I know he will be asleep again within a few seconds. He is. I want to slip out of the bed and go to the kitchen to make coffee. Now, this is something I have always so equated with married life* - making coffee while hubby is still complaining why the day started so early. Then I'll switch on the TV for some mandatory morning noise. I will write a short note in a stick-on colored sheet and press it to his coffee mug: A few months ago, I would sit on the bus and dream about you, whoever you were. Now you're here, and turns out the universe is way better at making this stuff up than my brain was. Want to have babies? Yes/no? Circle. I love you.
So a bus ride made me think of this?!
*The first time I thought of this dreamy thought I pictured that marriage will soon follow, but heck, I typed "married life". Either applies, really.