Posted by: alegra22 | August 16, 2012



By five o’clock, I want to drink red wine and eat chorizo and laugh heartily with people who live on the other side of the planet. I want to panhandle on a street corner until I have enough money to fly myself and a surfboard to an island surrounded by warm waters, right hand waves, and where the rhythm of ripe fruit dripping from trees lulls me to sleep.

I want to wipe the mascara from eyes, smudging it until I look like a mad woman, and then I want Dan to gather me in his arms and carry me to bed to watch comedy as the planets spin and people die and are born in the same moment. I want to belly laugh and accidentally snort as other people anxiously attempt to will their dreams into existence. I want to extract myself from my husband’s arms and stumble through the dark, just to listen to the tide of breath moving through our house, small hands tucked behind sleeping brains, or, open-palmed, waiting for anything and everything.

I want to not worry about growing a  year older.

I want to know that as my eyelids droop, as the lines grow on my face, that as my skin grows thinner, it is only to be permeable for the light that grows brighter inside of me.

I want to grow wiser and roll around in my loose skin.

I want to be irreplaceable, cherished.

I want to know that in this story, my children will love me.

I want to know that as their small fingers interlace with mine, I don’t have to mourn the way that one day they will be so very different than they are now.

And when I return to my husband’s arms, I want to know that our legacy was built in the weeds pulled from our garden, the walls we painted, the bills we paid, the way we fought to find one another’s feet beneath blankets night after weary night. I want to know that the best parts of us existed in the smallest details of building our lives together.

By five o’clock, I want God to download reassurance into my brain – a spiritual version of an I-tunes upgrade.

I want God to whisper, “My silly child, you are beloved and blessed.”

I want this, even if I don’t deserve it.
I want this because even if I don’t deserve it, I’ll hold it tenderly, ferociously to my chest and I’ll use it for all manner of good.

I want to know that God laughs as I laugh.

I want to feel the holy terror of that love pass through me, promising all things, but only if I throw my arms out, tuck my hands behind my head, and surrender to the dreams that rock through me night after night.

As another day brings me closer to mid-life, I want to wake up and know:

Beloved, you’re perfectly imperfect.

Wipe the mascara from your eyes.
Let your belly hang.

Let your eyelids sag.

Let that light burn bright.



Let go.

Dance as you paint the walls.

Sing as you pull weeds.
Belly laugh at the 5 o’clock hour when the word ‘mommy’ sounds like geese being strangled.

I love you.

And I’m so very pleased with you.



  1. Beautiful words, and amazing sentiment. Perfect imperfections…amazing visuals here. Thank you for posting this. You’ve made my night.


  2. i want it too! i love that your words speak exactly what my heart is feeling!thank you! Date: Thu, 16 Aug 2012 06:04:40 +0000 To:

  3. Sounds almost like everything I want to do too…almost…lovely words again Alegra!

  4. oh man do I know the sound of those geese!!!
    lovely words Alegra. lovely spirit. you are indeed irreplaceable and cherished.

  5. Beautiful!

  6. So, so many good things in this entry – I want it all (in the words of Freddie Mercury)

    “I want to know that God laughs as I laugh.”

    But I love the above.

    A gorgeous piece.

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