I have a month left on this project. Holy crap, where did the time go? And at the same time, I feel like I’ve been doing this forever. Is this really how long it takes to grow a baby? Again, holy crap.
Anyway, I want to talk about the end. When I started Bakery Closed, I sort of had an idea of what the end would be: we’d go somewhere fabulous (okay, we’d go to France), and my last post would be about how Doug had just proposed to me, and it would be infused with a sense of everything-will-be-okay-now. I also imagined my blog would be turned into a book, and that, therefore, I would need that bang of happily-ever-after at the end.
Well, I am not being turned into a book, not yet anyway. The blog turned out to be more like a loving conversation with myself and some incredible friends – new and old – than the tidy coming-of-age story I’d imagined. And we’re not going to France, or anywhere else fabulous to commemorate our due date/the end of my project: we’re going to his sister’s thirteenth birthday party the day before, and then…? I don’t know. I requested the day off, though, so at least we’re not going to work. And a mutual friend reminded Doug that April is too soon to propose if we want a next-September wedding, because I am categorically against having a long engagement; so even though he had, at some point, come up with the idea on his own, he ultimately decided against it. (And, as it turns out, I’m kind of grateful for that.)
So maybe, when Bakery Closed ends, it will just end. I mean, I can’t keep going. I can’t keep obsessing over all this divorce/marriage/miscarriage/baby stuff; I’ll go crazy. But I can’t stop writing either. That much is clear.
I’ve been toying with an idea for a follow-up project, this one a lot lighter in subject matter, but with the same ultimate goal: to prepare myself and my life for marriage and babies, duh. I’ve mentioned multiple times in here that I’m horrible at cooking, and cleaning, and ironing, and sex, and other aspects of housewifery. Yet, if I want to be a wife and a mother, I’m going to need to learn these skills. So I came up with the idea for what we’ve been calling my “housewife project,” which would basically involve me throwing myself deeply into the role of 50s housewife (complete with aprons and cute dresses), failing comedically at all these tasks until (hopefully, eventually) I don’t, and writing about the process. I’d enlist friends to teach me everything they know, through advice or example. I might even ask my mom for help. Doug would be contracted to bring home flowers, pamper me, take me out, and help once in a while, so I don’t end up resenting him. The only thing contradicting the little-wife image I’d be temporarily giving myself would be the fact that I’ll still have to go to work. I imagine the whole thing would be frustrating; I hope it would be fun.
But being that my blog turned out as more of a conversation than a narration, I figure I should ask all of you what I should do with this looming anniversary/end/beginning.
I can’t promise I’ll go along exactly with the results of the polls. But have fun telling me what to do anyway.
I suggest a bonfire
laid out across 400 pages
is really quite effective.
Each spoken word, hesitant breath,
calls me back to its origin,
cuts me with its meaning.
I have never seen myself
this naked, nor felt so insecure
about my nakedness.
(1-28-04, after printing and rereading two years’ worth of diaries for my final college project)
(I promise a new poem tomorrow.)