and things have changed. I really wish they wouldn't.
I have always had great difficulty with change. There is something inherently sad in it. In a way change is death of the present, and I really, really like the present sometimes.
I like laughing, but I like watching others laugh even more. But it ends, and we all wind up plodding further and further towards the final change.
I used to think that that final change was the final joke, because it wouldn't really change anything when it happened. When we shuffle off, things pretty much stay the same. Irony.
Now I have a tiny little dancer. Her first words every morning, as she wakes in her mother's arms, are "Poppa...Poppa". She tenderly rubs the sleep from her eyes while repeating the mantra. She simply wants her Mama to bring her to me, sleeping on the couch with a broken leg, so she can greet the morning with me. I don't ever want that to change, and why would I?
Am I simply too immature to accept the inevitable loss that change represents? Am I so introverted and self-obsessed that I can't trade the possibilities of the future for the sureties of the now?
I am a cynic. We murder hope. You know, on a daily basis.
I don't ever want to stop watching my tiny dancer. She sparkles as she moves, like light through tears. She moves freely yet with determination. She is what I wish we all were, innocent and happy to hug. She is savage and wondrous and devil-may-care. She listens to the train out the window and knows that it says "choo choo!"
I don't ever want that to stop, and it breaks my heart perpetually to know that it will.
I have never understood this world, not really. I am not so much interested in fairness as I am in righteousness. But both of those are too nebulous to use in blanket cases.
The real irony is that it was the biggest change in my life that brought me my tiny dancer.
