It's funny what kids can imagine about life as an adult. I have a vague recollection from when I was about 10-12 of The Perfect Life when I got out on my own. I used to imagine living off somewhere in the northern New England woods, so far back in the pine trees that they had to pump sunshine in, with a rather nondescript Best Friend who wasn't based on any of my real friends that I can recall. We would have a nice small house with just a living room, kitchen and two bedrooms, done out like a real mountain cabin with rugged looking furniture and Indian-style rugs and blankets, the only modern touches being the TV and library of videotapes. We'd sleep on bunk beds in one of the two bedrooms, and have a huge electric train layout in the other. Maybe there wouldn't be much to do in the woods, but we wouldn't care because it would be so cozy and we'd have each other's company and the trains and movies to amuse us.
Lately, after the elections and some increasingly unpleasant office politics and the demoralizing-by-nature process of PhD program applications (they get hundreds of applications for a dozen or so slots and this is all they're going to know about me?!), that whole idea is starting to sound pretty good again. Of course, I already am living with my best friend at this point and the bunk beds are no longer an especially desirable option, and I would now want the trains to coexist with my records and books. And maybe I would also follow John Prine's advice and blow up the TV. But the basic idea of getting lost in the country with my better half and a few creature comforts is now sounding even more appealing than when I was a kid.
Granted, I don't actually remember how I planned to pay for that beautiful home, or for that matter where I even hoped to find work that far from nowhere. But I'm beginning to think it's worth trying to find a way around those obstacles. My little experiment with staying out of the rat race is already agreeing with me pretty well - why stop when I get back to America, y'know?
It's funny what doesn't change sometimes, even when you grow up. If we ever really grow up. Right now I can remember that Wendy decided she was ready to leave the nursery after all, but I can't, for the life of me, recall why!
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