Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
Missing Her
I am on the hunt for Carefree. I once was best friends with Carefree but I haven’t seen her since I was about seven.
You know Carefree. She’s the one who’s barefoot. She’s not worried about being hungry because she’s got a peanut butter sandwich and a dollar in her backpack. She knows when the ice cream man is coming and that’s all that’s important.
She doesn’t worry. She doesn’t fret. She doesn’t think about the future unless it’s happening tomorrow. She’s just living her life.
If she steps on a piece of glass on the playground, she cries. But she never thinks about stepping on a piece of glass ahead of time. If she did, she’d be looking down all the time or wearing shoes. Then she wouldn’t be Carefree. She’d be Careful.
I am tired of being with Careful and want to be with Carefree.
Do you have to be seven to pal around with Carefree? That’s my question. Is it a state of mind only for people with a lot of blank space in their brains? For people, like children, who are too dumb to know how hazardous the world is?
Oh, sometimes I have glimmers of Carefree, maybe when I’m on a road that isn’t on the map, swimming in a very blue lake, sitting in the sand amidst the ferns and blueberry plants and filling my cup with tiny ripe blueberries. It is just enough, like a wee shot of heroin, to remind me what being with Carefree feels like.
And then she’s gone. Just like that. Snap.
I’m not hopeful but I’m going to stick with the hunt. No matter how long it takes.
I want her back.
10 Comments on “Missing Her”
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Snow Door | wisconsinacademy.org
Listen to Jan read her essay “Billy” presented on WUWM’s Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “At the Breakfast Bar” on WUWM Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “The Parish Hall,” on WUWM Lake Effect
“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
Carefree is a boon companion but one me thinks doesn’t like hanging with mothers. She seems to desert us as soon as the baby is born and can never be found again. I think though that the child helps take out the sting of the loss.
I remember Carefree, as well. And those times when she reappears for even the briefest moment I call her Perfection.
🙂
If do do meet up with her again, Jan, like in permanently, please send me her number. I also need to befriend her. Asap.
Reblogged this on Red's Wrap.
Very well written, I really enjoyed this. Especially the bit about the broken glass, I thought that made your point very well. 🙂
Boy oh boy, Jan, this really spoke to me. I defy silly rituals I build for myself – that become dictators! For example, I’ll realize how some schedule, that I built, is dictating whether or not I can be spontaneous. I see it when I want to take off for a picnic dinner on the beach with friends so we can watch the sun go down. I “go for it”. It’s proven essential for my soul.
One of my acid tests for seeing how many ruts I’ve created? I imagine just jumping in the car and going. Nothing packed. No prescription for thyroid. No night guard to protect my jaw. Nothing for “just in case”. Could I manage? I know I’d survive!
If you have time, a well known anthropologist tells a wonderful story (Inuit man) at the end of this ted.com talk that is the epitome of freedom in my books. That would be my version of carefree!!http://www.ted.com/talks/wade_davis_on_endangered_cultures.html
I think she’s closer than you think. She might simply need an invitation. Real informal. Holla and she’ll come running.
Beautiful, moving piece. I always try to make sure I never lose sight of carefree. Sometimes we’re arm in arm, sometimes she just at the edge of the horizon. I look forward to you two reconnecting! x
Thanks. 🙂 You seem to me to be a pretty carefree person — maybe that’s why I like your blog so much.