When I was 7 I wanted so badly to be 15 so I could smoke as the Marlboro commercials did; they were having fun. I memorized that 7 + 8 = 15. I was 7 and had 8 more years to go. And when I was 9…6 more to go; 15 was the milestone.
I hated having to wait, I hated seeing people with cigarettes I couldn’t have.
I finally reached 15 and cigarettes were not on my to-do list. At some point, they lost interest. There were other things that filled my life then, better things. Somewhere, somehow, over time what we really want is not that important once we get it.
Fast forward for a long time…age 40-some. I was wearing a wig and was told to stay away from the heat. “Do not approach ovens, and when you wash your hair in the washer with detergent soup (not in the shower with shampoo) do not put it in the dryer”.
I hated not being able to walk in the wind without holding my wig in place but I joked about it as I do with everything I can’t handle. When a friend told me “I like your hair” I said “you can have it when I’m done with chemo”.
And just like when I was 7 and wanted to be 15, I wanted so badly to be at that point when it didn’t matter what my wig looked like if I stuck my head in the oven. Then the day came when my own hair, the own attached to my skull, was slowly growing back in; the wig was thrown somewhere and later given away but it never made it to the oven.
Sometimes wanting something so badly it’s not important once we get it. There are other things that fill our lives.
3 years ago