New Mexican Silhouette

   Last night I was driving home from my sister’s house. Wanting to avoid the monologues I need to memorize, I stopped at Blockbuster for a movie. I was not meeting someone that I needed to be on time for. I was not late for dinner with my parents. In fact, the only one who really cared if I got home in five seconds or five hours was my trusty jack russell terrier Elvis. I pulled onto our town’s main street and let Tim McGraw’s voice reverberate through the small cab of my lifted, black F150 truck. Traffic was not particularly heavy, but just my luck-- I was stuck in a pack of slow drivers. Like my father, I enjoy getting in the far left lane and staying there until it is time to turn off. Going at least the speed limit is a necessary in my book, and here I was sandwiched on all sides by a bunch of tiny four door sedans. An uncomfortable ball of annoyance was quickly clotting in the pit of my stomach and I was bouncing up and down in my seat muttering “come on! urg!” 

   The pack finally broke up... except the car in front of me refused to let me through. I pressed the accelerator down and let my truck breath down the tiny car’s neck. “COME ON NEW MEXICO! MOVE OVER! This is a 50 zone and you’re going 35 in the left lane!” I had been riding on this car’s wa-zoo for several miles. I lost my last shred of patience when he caused us both to miss the light by a millisecond. I squinted and the lights and illuminated billboards around me blurred as I put all my energy into burning a death glare through this guy’s rear window and headrest. 

   After a few moments, I noticed there was a passenger in the front seat-- a woman. By the looks of they fluffy parkas, hair cuts, and dinky old car I came to the conclusion they were older. I stopped concentrating on glaring and began to study their body language. The man would look straight ahead, then lean over and laugh. The woman would put her hands over her face and bounce and then lean over and lovingly wack his shoulder. He would throw his head back and laugh some more. They continued on until the stop light flicked green. She rested her head on his shoulder and he lurched forward as tortoise-like as ever. 

   The realization that he was unaware of his surroundings because he was enchanted with sharing a moment with the woman next to him hit me like a ton of bricks. Were they a married couple who had spent a their lives together and were on their way home from dinner at their grown child’s house? Were they siblings or best friends who had not seen each other for months? Were they new acquaintances in the honey moon stage of their relationship? I will only ever know that their silhouettes had dissolved my anxiousness and me made turn up the music, sink down in my seat, ease off the accelerator, and notice the odd patterns the streetlights made on the sidewalk, remember the snow day I spent sipping hot cocoa at that restaurant on my right with my best friend in the 4th grade, or how my mom and I’s favorite boutique had invested in a new sign... 

Things suddenly become more lovely when you relax and live like a silhouette. 

A Life of Quarters

All throughout high school I was looking for my “group” of friends. The ones who would be in bridesmaid dresses when I got married, who could finish my sentences, who I would have entire albums on facebook dedicated to. I once had these girls in middle school. We were sisters. However, I branched off from the group when I attended a high school across town. Sure, I had “friends.” I would invite the whole world over to my house for birthday parties or new years eve parties. I see now I was desperately grasping for people to come and laugh and eat and like me. But... they did not know my secrets, they did not know my middle name, or how at times I hated being so different from everyone at my high school. This all sounds very sad and okay I admit it, pathetic. It sounds more dramatic than it probably is, but I’m majoring in theater what do you expect from me? The truth is-- I did have some really amazing best friends throughout the years who define who I am today.

Being home for Christmas has opened my eyes to how futile my search for belonging to a group of friends was. It could be called unsuccessful, but I’m an optimist-- lets call it futile. On the plane back to Texas, I was thinking “oh I have to see so many people and plan a HUGE party and and and!” Cousins came in town, stayed in our guest house, and I was unable to do anything but play dolls with my baby cousins, run around my grandmother’s house hunched over chasing them like a monster, construct a miniature neon tent in front of the fireplace, and set up stuffed animals for a grand tea party. When I spent time away from them, I was at my sisters watching modern family with the other side of the family or cuddled up with my dog on the porch swing reading a book. At one moment, my mom and I were playing the new dance game for Wii at my sister’s. (CAUTION: that is a cardio workout on steroids) She kept beating me. Badly! Soon, my sister was digging the camcorder out, my dad was crying and beet red because he was laughing so hard, and my nephew was screaming “Come on Danielle!” As I looked over at my mother giggling, it hit me. I did not want to see all those glorified acquaintances. I did not want to throw extravagant parties secretly hoping for acceptance from the masses or look at my old friend’s facebooks and wish I hadn’t vanished from those Christmas parties. I am right where I belong. My family are the people I want to be in my wedding or to receive a text from when I’ve had a bad day. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love getting invited to someone’s house for a massive movie night. It’s natural to want to belong. But, now when I am forgotten on someone’s invite list and hear about it later on... I just don’t care (as much). Being home from college makes me feel like I’m standing in front of a parking meter with a limited amount of quarters. It makes me see that those quarters belong to my family and those genuine, best friends who love me for more than parties, money, or clothes. Time is precious. Everyone is allotted a specific amount of quarters in their lifetime. Spend your quarters well, because you can never get them back once they are gone.