My Pretend Life

When my so-called real life ended about two years ago, I began trying to re-imagine myself.  I considered everything. Answering those work abroad ads, joining the Peace Corps (I have an application in progress and yes they do want people my age), moving back to my hometown, or at least back to the midwest where I'd be closer to family if I felt myself slipping off the deep end (yes, the deep, deep end was an option I considered, too.) I thought about putting my stuff in storage and just moving around from this to that or getting into some kind of communal living situation.

But now I've done something that is none of those things.  I bought a second condo.  My daughter and her friends will live there and cover the expenses and I have an air-bed there tucked into the corner of the strangely big-as-a-bedroom laundry room.  An air-bed with white sheets and a white comforter and two feather pillows waiting for me in a room with plaster cracked like a roadmap so that I can lie there and study the wall and wonder where I am going.

I've made up a pretend life for myself in St. Paul.  Where I practice yoga. The cooking class I've registered for.  Where I buy yarn and the bar where I never miss a happy hour and the bookstore where I work part-time.  There's a good smelling  salon where I get the perfect haircut and my neighbors have me over for dinner every week.  I like my imaginary life.

And I like my new real life, too.