2005-02-08
In the suburbs with Dylan
Pierce and I finished our lecture on the Formalist Approach, or "New Criticism" in English Lit. today.
Last night, I was discussing it with Alastair. As I was speaking, he suddenly put me on speaker so that his father could listen. Quite a lively conversation...and in the end, when I proclaimed myself a formalist, Al's father chimed in the background, and--through chuckles--said:
"I'm gonna like this girl, Alie..."
I was...flattered. I'm days away from making my first trip to Ottawa, Ontario, Canada to see my boyfriend whom I have not seen in months. I've never met either one of his parents, and being quite honest...the nervousness that had been mounting inside me is suddenly disappearing in at least knowing how kindly they're ready to receive me--it's important to me.
Getting along with his parents is important--not so much their approval, but a tension-free environment--the same one he has with my parents.
I haven't confessed this to anyone--those fairy-tale, girlish fancies of mine are now getting the best of me, like daydream fairies during my five-year-old summer dreams...that, my heart...
No, how shall I say this? How shall I say this without getting reprimanded and being told that I'm "too young" and "too inexperienced"...but it doesn't seem to matter now...
When we spend our late nights talking on the phone with one another and I hear his even, tenorous, yet youthful voice on the other line telling me that:
"...One day, I'm going to have to ask you to marry me, you do know that, right?"
And I used to laugh--used to; and I'd dismiss it as something silly--words without substance. But suddenly, it doesn't seem silly anymore...
Desiree and I were editing her Bob Dylan article, when I suggested she take up two pages--her article with plenty of Dylan's pictures, both recent and from the 60s.
There was one, of Dylan and his wife and three children--black and white, serene, joyful. He was dressed in this, semi-casual black suit with tie-less button-down...and what appeared to be small, gold-rimmed glasses. He was holding a baby bottle in one hand, and whom I think was his daughter, Desiree, in the other--when she was a baby of about four to six months. His wife, in navy blue trousers and white blouse with an elegant, flower-print scarf on her head...her dark hair to the side, and she was holding their baby son, methinks. Between them--standing--was their toddler. Behind them was the placid afternoon sun penetrating the French windows.
I kept staring at that picture--something came alive inside of me. And I realized that I want to attend Rochester...I want to be able to distinguish myself as an academic.
But...
I also want that life--I want a husband and my beautiful children. And I don't know why this feeling...this maternal feeling has been so persistant over the last few days. I went shopping for my snow boots yesterday. And, I made the mistake of accidentally going through the Baby Department--with the smells and colors. And gently, I picked up one of the Precious Moments dolls--I woke up, and continued walking.
But I told Al I've been feeling strange, and he started chuckling and said, "We better be extra careful when you come up..."
And we are careful. This sounds odd: I want a baby...but not now. I need to know that I will be successful (by my own standards) and have a beautiful child.
But more than just the small, doll-like hands and smiling faces...I need a family one day. All this time, I've been so afraid to confess that it's a legitimate desire...a healthy desire.
I don't need expensive vacations, or an Audi, or to shop at Lotus or J. Crew...just, a family? This feeling is not only strange, but scary...
Yet, while some people would be ashamed to think this way...I embrace it.