I used to live across the sea and when my daughter was three we took a ferry boat to the island of Kume Jima near Okinawa. I remember that trip clearly; I had started writing a novel called Purple Heart and I was excited to get more ideas and facts on that ferry trip. My daughter and I danced on the roof of the ferry to the music in our headphones and wow that felt wonderful. I loved living overseas. Always there was excitement and adventure. I loved the Japanese vending machines--they were like art. And the cans were made of thick steel so they didn't crunch when you tried to smash them and they were tall and skinny and beautiful to look at. So now as I live in the Midwest I think to my life overseas and I want it back. I want to go live in Korea or Japan. I want to drink Lemon-C from a steel can. I want to eat Kimchi for breakfast with two eggs and a dried fish. I want to see gorgeous tropical sunsets and go to fabulously expensive funky artsy coffee shops. Is this the life of a writer, a weirdo, a traveler, a poet, a mother? I have responsibilities to live up to yet I still live in some kind of poetic dreamworld. I dream of traveling again and meeting new people and eating new foods. I dream of living my old Life and I know I am not the only person on Earth who does this. It's possibly human nature. I guess it's why we have the capacity to remember. The good times make for good memories. I think it's hard sometimes, and I don't think this just applies to me, but I think it's hard to draw the line between what is wanted and what is actual. Reality says I can't go overseas right now. Reality says that I write this little blog instead of dancing on a ferry roof. Reality says it's time to cook dinner, wash dishes, make cookies and some evening coffee. Reality says I just have to wait. Kume Jima will be there in a year. At least I dream so.
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