Why aren’t I like the ranger lady in Prodigal Summer who lives by herself on a mountain?
Why aren’t I like A. who sews and makes soup and sleds with her children?
Why aren’t I like B. who lectures around the country and who can’t wait to get out on the slopes in her Telemark skis?
Why aren’t I like C.–tall and gorgeous, teaching yoga, doing voice-overs, being magnificent, offering everything–over the top!?
Why aren’t I like D. who has a farm in her own back yard,
or like E. who drives a tractor,
or F. who drives a bus?
Why aren’t I like G. who grows her own food,
or H. who has a passion for herbs and birds,
or I. who built her own house, lived in a yurt, backpacked along the Appalachian trail, and volunteered in Haiti?
Why aren’t I tougher in the cold, bolder on the earth, stronger in all places?
What about J. who plays ice hokey?
Or K. who wants to spend a semester out at sea?
And why not like my sister L. who joined the service?
Or M. or has earned her Masters Degree?
Or N. who has her own business?
Or O. who is passionate with her hands?
Or P. who knows she doesn’t want 7 sisters?
Or Q. who is funny and bright?
Or R. who tackles all her own projects?
Sometimes my view is so filled by who they all are, that I can’t see myself.
Like S. who cares for her family so full-heartedly.
And T. who is facing cancer.
U. who travels back and forth between home and an aging parent;
and V. who seamlessly becomes a mother.
What do I have that they would want?
Would X. want my insight?
Would Y. want my penetration of thought?
Would Z. long to experience life with such light?
I cannot be every woman and I don’t want to be, but sometimes I wonder, Why Aren’t I…?
Kelly Salasin, December 2010