All of the Mes That I Could Have Been

I am a stay-at-home mother. I daven daily with my kids and we sing songs and dance wildly and laugh together. I am calm and warm and somehow also able to make a nutritious dinner that everyone eats beautifully (yes, including the vegetables). Actually, let’s make that two dinners — I’ll also make one for the neighbor who recently had a baby. My kids love going shopping with me and I take them on educational trips — to the fire station, the police station, the museum. Somehow, I am able to fold the laundry and go to bed on time in this reality. I probably can’t afford any cleaning help, but I’m able to get it all done because I’m not working, right? Shouldn’t I be able to get everything done if I’m not working?

The alternate reality happens concurrently, and my children love school. Which is good, because I am a successful optometrist. No one cares that I failed chemistry in high school in this world, because I already graduated the million years of school and residency to make it to this incredible place where I can look at an eye and see more than a beautiful color. I understand the intricacies of this magnificent creation. I can treat illness, ease pain, and provide the ability to see. This dream is more far-fetched because the things that fascinate me don’t match my skill set. I wonder sometimes if I would’ve been able to manage the schooling for such a task, but I convince myself that I could have with hard work. But maybe that’s because I’ll never get to test that theory.

Now, we live out of town. I still have to travel a bit to get to the ranch where I am an equine-therapist. Each girl connects naturally to different horses, and it doesn’t always come easily, but once they find “their horse,” it becomes an elixir of life. First, the physical labor of caring for these creatures. Then, the inner work of absorbing invasive thoughts and penetrating emotions. Finally, add crisp air and the overwhelming beauty of the vast world and you get… Well, you get magic. I’d like to think that I could help others with their emotional distress without getting caught in my own — to connect with people and nature and animals, all without wandering into my own thoughts and emotions.

For some reason, the magic in my fake lives doesn’t seem to materialize when I stumble through reality, trying to be the best me that I can be. Probably because the magic in my fake lives only exists if I can somehow be everything at once.