I have no time. It feels like there is always a scarcity of one thing or another in life, money, time, manpower. As I was peeling carrots last weekend, I lost myself in a daydream about the lovely homecooked meals I would make if I had a freezer full of home-prepared freezer meals. All the prep work done ahead of time so that when I have weeks like last week, I can pull a meal from the freezer ahead of time and finish it when I get off work late. Last week was especially busy with extra tutoring sessions and make-up tests for all the students who have been out with covid or isolation schooling because someone in their family was sick. We ate fast food almost every day. The daydream was so real that as I watched the pile of carrot peels piling up in the sink, I began fretting about who would help me with the dishes. Homecooked meals come with a need for cleanup that McDonald’s doesn’t have. Then I stopped myself because those handmade freezer meals don’t exist like all my many dreams of what I’d love to be doing with my time, baking, drawing, embroidery, and writing my scribbles.
My mind flew to a memory when I was about thirteen or fourteen a few years after my parents’ divorce. Someone invited our very small family, Mom, my younger sister Ellen, and me to a seminar on the end of the world and how to prepare. The European Union was being formed and that was a sure sign of the rise of a one world government. Before we knew it Gorbachev would be ruling the world as the antichrist and America would be plunged into literal darkness when our electric grid would be disabled by our enemies. The man leading the class was selling kerosine lamps and fuel. We were too poor to purchase a lamp, but I begged Mom to buy me a small bottle of kerosene. I laugh now because it would have been useless at the end of the world, but that bottle brought me great comfort. That purchase made me feel like we were doing our part to be prepared.
I wouldn’t buy fuel without a lamp these days, but I worry that some of my purchases have a similar smell to them. I have a new-to-me sewing machine that lives in a beautiful cabinet that gets dusted once a week by my housekeeper. The next time I am compelled to sew something, the process won’t bring me to tears. I can dream about happy hems and fantasize about quilting all day long, but it’s all dreams.
Mike and I went out yesterday and purchased a small chest freezer for the garage that will hold all the meat we plan on investing in. We listed all the freezer meals our family used to love back in the days when I homeschooled, and meal prep was as stressful as it is this year with my work schedule. We loved lasagna, pork stir fry, meatballs with mozzarella inside them, and chicken fajitas. Now we have our Sous Vide and can prepare and freeze chicken breasts, pork tenderloin, and pork chops. The list is full, but the freezer is empty.
Esther’s vacated room which once was Mom’s room is now a storage room. It wouldn’t be fair to call it a craft room. It holds the sewing machine, embroidery tools, and pencils and paper for the online drawing class last viewed on my birthday in January. The room holds my dreams of being a craftswoman and artist. On days that are busy with work and the daily upkeep of life, knowing that I could spend a spare hour there is as much a comfort to me as that little bottle of kerosene once was.
There are some things in my home that are remnants of old dreams and are potential tools no longer. Somewhere in this huge house, perhaps in one of the attics, there is a plastic bin of ice skating gear, outfits with sequins that would fit pre-teen girls along with ice skates in their sizes. That’s where lay my white, specially fitted ice skates with furry cow soakers protecting the blades. The last time they were worn, they had shrunk and felt much too tight. That dream has died a glorious death, and I’m ready to let those things go…if I can ever find them again.
Maybe it isn’t so bad to have some placeholders in life. Every week I work towards having a balance between work, taking care of my family, and doing all the things that bring me joy. It would be a shame to forget what those goals are. Though the freezer is empty, every time I drive into the garage and see it, it reminds me of the plan. I have every hope that I’ll be the housewife, mother, artist, teacher, and friend that I dream of being and that hope brings me joy too.
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