Playing House

So often I feel way too young to be living my life. A few times a week, I’ll think this is my house? And he’s my husband? And this is our city we call home? And then I feel thankful and weird that yes, I am old enough for this, even though some days it feels like Matt and I are just playing house and soon he’ll drop me off at my dorm.

Well nothing snaps me out of that idea quite like walking through a college’s freshman orientation, which I happened to do yesterday afternoon. They were standing in a large circle, with two-by-fours and rope in the center, doing some awful character-building activity. And thank God I didn’t have to participate. Because there are few things I hate more in life than those stupid “games” that are played at any new person orientation. I HATE THEM. They’re not games, so don’t try and trick me into playing with you!

(Perhaps I still have some anger issues to work out between me and everyone who tricked me into playing a Do You Trust Me game. Because 1) no, I don’t trust you. I don’t know you. You could really hate my shoes and thus choose to drop me and I will be hurt and sad. And 2) that’s not a game! Don’t lie to me! I hate being coaxed into playing a game, only to discover there’s no game!)

So after watching the freshman go through the pain of orientation, I drove home and started making dinner. I decided to make one of Matt’s favorites, meatloaf. I hate meatloaf. I hate the way it looks, the reputation it has, the name (it’s a loaf of meat!). But Matt’s been all sweet and breadwinner-y since I quit my job, and if meatloaf can convey my thankfulness, then meatloaf it is. I stood there mashing and sculpting, and again I suddenly felt way too young to be making meatloaf for my husband.

But then Matt went for seconds, and everything felt just right. Sometimes I feel too young, and sometimes I feel too old – but I’m learning to always feel thankful.