Precious Illusions

"She said, I think I'll go to Boston...I think I'll start a new life...I think I'll start over..." I know these are merely the lyrics from an Augustana song, but I once knew a girl who uttered them long before Augustana ever played a note together. She disappeared for awhile, dropped below the equator to lie in the hamockshade of a banana tree, waiting for her soul to become shiny again. She's home now, with more resilience than I've seen from her in years.

Just the other day, a friend told me that perhaps we just learn to accept the hand we are dealt in life. I'm having a difficult time with that concept. It's not as if I haven't recently fallen into old habits myself, the restless late night drives, unclear relationship boundaries, and the inability to make a real hard and fast decision about anything, just to name a few. And although the cards in my hand are far from a full house, I laid each one down on the table yesterday. I signed each and every page of that divorce agreement and I am not afraid to ask the dealer for another hand.

So, for now I think that I will hold on to my precious illusions of rebirth, of starting over, and that summer in Boston is far closer to me than the equator.