I'm not losing my mind. That was just a bit of whimsy I indulged in. Why shouldn't I? I've spent far too much of my life being serious, worrying about the future, fretting about how to pay the bills, and all kinds of grown-up things. As The Doctor said one time, "What's the use of being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes?"
Somehow, when I was in a freshman in college, i figured out that floating on the wind was the right thing to do. Following that philosophy led me into some interesting adventures and not just a little trouble. But I had, and still have, a strong innate sense of responsibility.
So after I found myself on my own with a 10-month-old baby girl, I traded whimsy for responsibility. That was fine with me. I don't know how she survived me, though. I'd never even held a baby before she was born.
What is worse than a woman who has a strong sense of responsibility but nothing and no one to be responsible for? A lost bed-bound, isolated woman with no outlet for those feelings.
So now I need to turn loose again and find all that old whimsy which was such a good and joyful companion when I was younger. Giving into it is so exhilarating. But, so far, I'm like a balloon with a 3-inch string tied to it.
Maybe the trick is to stop being so afraid to use my imagination. I must. If my body is so restricted, my only other choice, other than giving up altogether, is to let my mind fly.
Is that boy still looking at me? Maybe he and I can take a walk together and gaze at my imaginary moon. That would be peaceful and companionable. And we could create a universe of bubbles. :-)
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