She maps
She maps, and I've noticed that many girls like her do so. They lay out what their lives are going to be like the next few years, or in a decade. My own mother used to tell me about her map. How she was going to marry Robert Johnson, and how she fell in love with him and his Levi jeans in eleventh grade AP English. She told me about her three kids map and her small country house in the town she grew up in. She told me how none of that was true. What really happened was something so different. She married my dad, Matt Hastings, who she met in college. They couldn't get pregnant, so that was when they adopted me. I see no point in the maps that these females make. They stray from the inevitable fact that nothing can be controlled. That is why she, the one who I am inevitably in love with, is constructing a map that is ridiculous and unnecessary. She wants to move to the big city and become what she is perfect at, writing. I don't see how she could do something like that. She, and even I, are never guaranteed tomorrow. We cannot plan out the next bit of our lives or even the next day. I see no promise and I don't want her to map her life. I want her with me every single day. She can write for me and I'll sing it right back to her. Our kids will write like her. They will be perfect like her and they will love fearlessly like her. They will laugh, they will wander, they will explore and adventure. And as I thought about this, I realized what I had been avoiding this whole time. She was not the one mapping, she was dreaming. I, on the other hand, was mapping. I was mapping away from the inevitable. The impossible.