Will and I were playing a few hands of cards this weekend. We had to catch up on the last couple of months since we’d seen each other, and we got into some heavy duty conversations.
“See, the thing is, I’m 72% of the way through my intern hours, and I’m not sure I want to be an architect any more. I find myself fantasizing about quitting my job and just working at the mall. But I’ve already sacrificed too much, and come too far. I just have to log the rest of my hours, and then I can take my exams whenever I feel like it. Seriously, though, every time the train whistle blows a block away, I consider running for it.”
“I hear you, friend,” said Will. “But just keep your eye on the prize. Everyone has to intern; you’ve done three and a half years of school and what, two? two and half? years of interning? Don’t throw it away now, just because you’re frustrated. You can write your novel while you’re done. Meanwhile, try and keep yourself energized with all of the other things you have going on that you love. Music. Friends. Autumn in North Carolina. It’s your favorite season, coming up.” He threw down a card and added, “Uno, by the way.”
“I know. I know you’re right. At this point, the only way out is through. So how’s your career going? That preschool thing getting any easier? Your Mom said that first week was pretty rocky.”
“Yeah, I’ve gotten a little more zen about it. Change is hard, but I’ve made some friends, and I’ve been working a lot on my music on the side. I think that helps. I’ve almost knocked the peanut butter and jelly sandwich cravings out. Whoa, how many cards did you end up with? I totally skunked you. Your turn to deal. How’d your summer turn out, by the way? Wasn’t it kind of a busy stretch for your family?”
“Don’t get me started,” I said, and then I told him all about it, and he patted me on the shoulder and passed me his sippy cup. “Here,” he said. “You’d better take a swallow of this. I’ve got it, why don’t we write a honky tonk song on my playground piano? That always works.”
It helped. “So, you’ve learned to count since I saw you in July,” I pointed out while we played. “And you can name all of the animals in your safari book, even the wildebeest. That picture of you pressing your face up to the lion behind the glass at the zoo and laughing was straight-up badass. You are fearless, except maybe for preschool. I think you’ve just plain got it all together.”
Will’s a pretty humble guy, for such a charmer. “Not everything,” he told me. “I don’t exactly have a handle on my colors yet, but I’m not worried about it. We don’t have to have it all figured out today. Let’s go for a spin around the block.”
“So, then, I shouldn’t be freaked out that I feel like I have entirely lost my mojo? ‘Cause I feel like I have entirely lost my mojo.”
“You’re fine,” he laughed. “You just have a cold. Also, this year isn’t over yet. I know it hasn’t all been exactly what you hoped for so far, but you might be surprised by the time it’s all said and done. There are all kinds of good things ahead. What you need is a three-day weekend, and maybe rest up this week and take your vitamins. You’ll feel better this time next week. I promise.”
“You’re incredibly wise, for a two year old,” I told my precious perfect adorable godson.
All of the above in short form: I fished him out of his crib first thing in the morning, still in his footie pajamas. He smiled at me and gave me a snuggle and said, “I see Kafwin!” and I gave him the biggest, loudest kiss on his baby cheek and said, “I see Will!” and he giggled, and everything was fine.