If any of my faithful, kind readers read the post about "Destination Marriage", you know that I am quite talented at tripping, falling flat on my face and causing the people around me to stare in frank surprise that anyone can do something THAT embarrassing, much less do something that embarrassing and still go buy herself a small French Vanilla coffee (cream and one sweet & low).
Well, the other night I had another of these wonderful embarrassing moments that must happen to me so that others can take joy in them. At least, I hope so, because if not then I am going to spend the rest of my sorry days falling, catching myself, falling again, putting my hand through a pane of glass (it happened), getting stung by a bee on my middle finger while apple-picking, falling on my behind on the ice and watching my cup of hot chocolate fly into the air... and onto my head (that is purely hypothetical... just don't fact-check it with my sophomore roommate).
So, Tuesday night. It's 5:45pm and my dad is in town! I must pause and say that my dad is one of the most trustworthy, loving, and gentle people I have ever met. My dad is my hero. Dad, if you are reading this blog post, let me tell you that seeing you this week in DC made everything seem brighter and safer and more joyful. I love you, Dad. I admire you. It was so cool to show you my world here, and be able to give you a taste of what God is doing in my life!
Okay, I seriously digress now... Tuesday night. My dad and I walk to Founding Farmers, one of my favorite restaurants in DC and sit ourselves down at this little table for two in the corner with our backs to Pennsylvania Ave. We munch on grilled cheese and turkey sandwiches, chatting all the while. Dad asks me about what the next chapter of Hilary holds (and you, readers, can probably guess that my answer was long and rambling), I ask him for news about college, our dog and home. We stand up after paying the bill, ready to head to Farragut North.
Founding Farmers, in an effort to be more sustainable or cooler or both, installed a pretty glass revolving door as the entrance to their restaurant. The revolving door is encased by a curved glass wall except for the door-shaped hole where you enter and exit the revolving door. As I am walking around said revolving door, I think my dad is in the same quadrant as I am, and I turn to tell him how much I love having an actual sense of direction in the city. When I look behind me, I realize that Dad is actual in the quadrant behind me. That's fine, I think to myself. I'll just tell him about it when we both get outside. Speaking of outside... I see the sidewalk and think that I have reached the opening of the revolving door. I swing my body forward and plunge into what I think is cool night air and even cooler colors and noises of city life.
I plunge into the glass wall. My nose plunges into the glass wall. I bounce off the wall and stumble forward, my forehead down to my chin vibrating from the force of my collision. I get out onto the sidewalk just as a group of people are lining up to go into Founding Farmers. Great. Just great. These cool DC people are now going to sip fresh blueberry martinis and relive the hilarious story of the girl who walked headfirst into a glass wall thinking it was the doorway.
Readers, I wish I had a videocamera. But the best way to describe it is: you know those commercials for Windex when the wife (who seems to have nothing to do but clean her windows, tables and already-clean-never-been-used-because-her-life-is-not-real-and-I-bet-her-husband-doesn't-eat-at-home dishes) wipes the window down and then the bird flies into it? I was the bird.
Now you might be laughing really hard right now because you can picture this happening, or you were there (and Dad you better not read this out loud!). Or you might be laughing because you can remember the time you walked into the same glass wall at Founding Farmers! If so, thank you for your empathy. But you are also probably wondering why in the world I call this a celebration of singleness.
For the same reason that I want to sing into a hairbrush in my room! For the same reason that I want to take pictures in Lincoln Park with Mandie! For the same reason that I ate dark chocolate orange gelato last night at 10:45 and laughed about the fantastic movie Morning Glory with Rachel McAdams!
Life is a tragic comedy and a comedic tragedy. Life defies categorization by theater genre, type of sport (life is not a tennis match or a bad hockey game), or food item (it is NOT peaches and cream or a pitcher of lemonade). Life is lived on the edges, on those tattered fringes of sanity and chaos and calm. My life in this city is really a series of embarrassing, hilarious, sad, joyful, pensive, frustrated moments.
This is a celebration of singleness because I am single. But whoever you are, married or single, childless or a mother of six, fan of Taylor Swift or The Killers or T-Pain, butcher, baker or candlestick maker (or teacher, lawyer, social worker)... whoever you are, let today be a song of celebration that you are YOU, embarrassing moments and all.
I will end with a poem I wrote this morning with some girls from the Youth Service Center (the detention center for kids who are awaiting trial for some major crimes).
A Poem for Women
I carry love in my bones,
it bleeds through my veins, rushing blue.
I am woman.
I color my eyes powerful,
leak joy from tear ducts onto clean linoleum.
I see woman.
I speak anger,
lips teeth tongue flame red
I climb joy, its thick branches
planted in my soul.
I am woman.
Enjoy the sunshine of the day.