If someone asks, this is where I'll be....

I owned a house once my ex-husband bought to please me without consulting me. The experience was a disaster. I had no clue what to do with a house. I had no desire to decorate or to purchase furniture to put inside it, no desire to vaccum its carpets and scrub its toilets, no pride of ownership in it. Weeds grew around it while I watched in dismay and surprise, as though I never knew weeds grew around houses. Dogs began to inhabit the backyard. Neighbors came over, church people showed up. But I had no desire to own this house, no desire to make a garden, no desire to own two dogs, two rabbits, two kids, two thousand church friends, and no desire to actually be in the house. I had no desire to be married either, although I did love my ex-husband. He's still a friend of mine, as friends go--by that I mean, he could call me and ask me for almost anything, and I'd try to do it. I'm sure--truly--he knows this, though he doesn't call very often. He did show up out of the blue to take me out to dinner the last time I was in Dallas--with his second wife's permission. I know if I were her I would not appreciate this, but she is not me, so I went with alacrity. Dinner is dinner after all, and I do love him. I just did not want to be married to him or own a house. I wonder if this sums up our relationship?

Anyhow, I was asked recently what my car says about me by a person who's known me a long time. I'm not sure it says much of anything about me, although the brand moguls who would have me believe it does would like me to believe it. What it says is that I chose this car. I bought it myself. No one chose it to surprise me, no one will pay for it to make me happy, no one will clean it but me, there won't be dogs in the backseat, or kids throwing up on the carpet. I chose it because I liked its shape, I liked its feel, I liked the idea of owning a convertible for grown-ups instead of children. I like that on I5 last week a guy with a BMW pulled even, we traded looks, and then the race was on through light traffic south towards Mount Rainier, which looked beautiful in the morning sun. To our mutual amusement I'm sure. I like that I won.

Mostly, I like that this car moves. It moves. It moves. It moves. And I do clean it and I do pamper it and I do enjoy it and I do want it. Nothing about it surprises me. The car makes no sense to the person who asked me because the whole of my life has been spent mostly not wanting--anything. Spent in giving myself away to others, to causes, to sometimes living in a family I did not actually want to be in, spent "unselfishly" without materialism. So inexplicably despite a long-held anti-materialistic bent I have always had that had me writing checks for this or that cause, serving food to the homeless, volunteering in hospitals, this tendency that makes me reluctant to spend money on clothes, make-up, jewelry, fine furnishings, nice carpets, homes, I wanted this car. People are complicated.

That's about all this car says about me. I wanted it. I got it. This is where I'll be. Because of those things, I enjoy it.

Home is where I want to be
Pick me up and turn me round
I feel numb - born with a weak heart
I guess I must be having fun
The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It's ok I know nothing's wrong . . nothing

Hi yo I got plenty of time
Hi yo you got light in your eyes
And you're standing here beside me
I love the passing of time
Never for money
Always for love
Cover up and say goodnight . . . say goodnight

Home - is where I want to be
But I guess I'm already there
I come home - she lifted up her wings
Guess that this must be the place
I can't tell one from another
Did I find you, or you find me?
There was a time Before we were born
If someone asks, this is where I'll be . . . where I'll be...