There she stands- an amazing thing to behold.
She is tall and slender with perfect hair that used to be shiny blonde, but has now dulled into a respectable golden brown (which of course she gets touched up every 3 weeks). It is always styled in accordance to her outfit. She never looks out of place no matter what social setting she attends. She always belongs. And no one ever questions that...or her.
Her outfit is always in good taste- she never steps out of line with fashion, but always keeps to the modest side, so that no one could ever make a distasteful comment about her clothing choices. She tends to be pretty classic and classy- with everything.
First to be picked or wanted- she is kind and gracious and funny. And talented. Everything she touches glistens because she has touched it. Everyone she meets suffers from just a touch of envy. Though she would never make these distinctions about herself- not aloud, anyway.
See how she stands there. She almost looks humble.
She is very proud of being humble.
Beside her stands a dastardly handsome man- beautiful and rough all at the same time. A man who can be her match in graciousness, but can also swing an axe with amazing agility. Savvy in business and brilliant about anything, he somehow manages to make anyone, from any walk of life feel almost comfortable. They are partners for life. Each always happy with the other. Sure, an argument here or there; but they never last long and there is always a satisfactory make-up session.
On her other side stand 4 children- all beautiful, well-mannered, well-behaved, perfectly dressed. All, except the 3 year old, at the top of their class. It is befuddling how that 3 year old stands so still and still looks so happy.
You wonder how she does it.
I've wondered for a long time.
I am tired of wondering.
And I am tired of her.
She has looked over at me before and asked, "Jenny, really?! We are still waiting for you to join us." She said this graciously, but with a measured amount of impatience lacing her voice. She waits there with her resplendent family, presenting the final product, but not the way to obtain it.
They stand in front of the sanctuary of my church- the model family.
The air is rank with approval. I am heady with the scent and tears leak out of my eyes, because I want-
but I don't know how.
And I am tired of trying to figure it out.
And I am tired of wanting.
Of wanting approval - of wanting to measure up - wanting to be apart of
instead, I am and have been apart
and I am tired of working against that. And so,
"Good bye, My Dear. You can't be my standard, because I will then always, always be substandard. I can't let you...NO, stop! Stop looking at me with those beautifully blue, doleful eyes!"
"But, Jenny, nothing. I reject you. I reject your friendship. Your way of living isn't the only valid existence. I condemn your superiority. I will forge new friendships: ones that allow me to be me- beautiful, crazy me. The beautiful crazy me with the crazy, dysfunctional family."
"But Jenny, I love you."
"No. No, you don't. You love the thought of me; the thought of molding me into you. Because you think you're right, and I'm wrong. You think you're proper and I'm dangerous. I no longer accept these words as true. Live in your pretty world, darling. We'll get to the same place; and there, it won't matter who was right or wrong. Who was pretty, proper and classy; and who was crazy and beautiful. There we'll both be able to focus on more important things."