At Thirty.

I am laying here, curled up on the couch in the wee hours and unable to sleep (as I do when left alone of a night), and reading through the archives of the Luckybeans Blog. In doing this, I have come to realize where I would like to be at age thirty. The avenues I would like to walk down.

First of all, I'd like to mention that I spent a couple of years of high school helping to raise a baby. I remember one particularly sticking moment where my sister left me to hold my crying nephew to comfort him to sleep from around 4:30 a.m., until he finally got to sleep around 6:30 a.m.--just in time for me to get ready for school. I have a lot of resentment over a decent amount of this time and how I was treated, but the truth is that I love and have always loved my nephew. It overjoys me sometimes to see how wonderful of a little boy he is growing up to be.

With this background, we move on to my avenues. I see three ways things could go, although with my family history, it is more likely limited to two. I could either go back to school, graduate, get a job at some wonderful museum, and Chris and I end up somewhere living (possibly near here) and focusing on work and each other all our lives. This option is lovely, and would be wildly fulfilling. The third, probably not viable because of my family's tenuous history with pregnancies (my sister got my fathers genes in that she has had two consecutive pregnancies that have thus far been successful. Goodness knows I hope the new boy comes out alright. Mum's genes aren't so spectacular--two successful pregnancies and two or three rather violent miscarriages in between), would be to get pregnant slightly later on. I don't rely on that. My body is strange enough to make it extremely likely that my ability to produce children will reach null sooner in age than the average. The third option is the one I can see myself incredibly happy and fulfilled in. It's one that, even a couple of years ago, I would have called someone crazy for suggesting.

The third avenue that I could walk down leads me to being a stay-at-home mom to a kid, or maybe even a couple of kids. I would be hands-on (and so would he--always my helpmate, that boy) and weave stories and make toys and explore and take pictures of it all. Together, we would teach them and share with them all the best of the world. We would guide them. I'd love to adopt. Give a child a home and safety they can trust in. Protect them fiercely. As they grew older, I could pick my career up again. I'm good at picking up things I put on hold. I throw myself into them. It's somewhat strange to think of myself as a mom, but I think I could do it. I've hinted at it, and Chris seems somewhat neutral with a hint of supportive about the idea. Especially if we adopt--we both agree that there's no sense in planning to bring a new life in when so many have one in need of enriching. He's usually the one to mention it. Yet another reason to love the boy.

The thing is--and here we have what might be the only real sticking point between us two--I don't want to live here all of my life. I have family here, and ties; we both do. But to me, home is, as the old saying goes, where the heart is. As long as I have him, animals, and an internet connection, anywhere could be home. I've noticed throughout my travels that I feel entirely at home anywhere after I have slept in the same bed two nights in a row. Some places more than others. In my experiences, the places I've felt most at home are Portsmouth, Virginia, US; Sneem, Ireland (that place was gorgeous, and full of the most amazing people. Waking up there just felt right); New Orleans, Louisiana, US; and London, England. It's a short list in a long tally of destinations. What it boils down to is that, despite the fact that this place can be so beautiful that it catches my breath, it only reminds me of home. I have lived here all my life, and it isn't home. Not as much as those other places were.

I just hope that whatever avenue we walk down, Chris and I do it together. He wants to work in Finland for a while. Maybe we'll end up there. My love of winter would do well within shouting distance of Lapland, I think. And we would have goats. Wherever we end up, we've decided on a list of pets we want to have at some point. Goats are going to be a staple of our "pet diet". Personally, though, I am looking forward to seeing Guinevere, my bouncy little furball, interact with a big, drooly, Neapolitan Mastiff.

No matter what, I'm going to write, sew, draw. Create. As long as that is available to me, I'll be happy. It's gotten me through much so far. It will surely continue to do so.

...That was a fairly long ramble. I might try and sleep now. We'll see.