“If you can’t be with the one you love, honey, love the one you’re with!  love the one you’re with!!”

what.  WHAT!? really.  I mean, really?  Reeeeeally, Stephen Stills?  I mean, I know Billy Preston was a hugely influential human being, but really?  Did you really mean that?

Those are the thoughts I had as a 7 year old, staring out the backseat windows, listening to car music and finding myself slipping into the catchy groove.  I would always start singing along and when I found myself there, I would stop and think—is that really what I want in my life–what I have to look forward to??  being the leftover choice?  and just going along with it?  And then I would have a mind protest.  Yes, this is what happened in the 80s, in my little developing brain, looking out the window on sunny Sundays after church.

I mean sure, that’s greeeat for the chooser, but the leftover—the leftover then truly gets the shaft, no?:

Chooser:  Man, I sure wish I could be with fill-in-the-blank.  Man, I miss fill-in-the-blank so much; my heart truly aches.

Leftover:  Wow, I sure do love being with Chooser.  I hope Chooser feels the same about me…goo goo.

Chooser:  Well, it’s too difficult to be with the one I really want to be with and oh…hey…look at this sweet little Leftover thing sitting next to me.  I guess it wouldn’t be too bad if I gave it a shot.  something is definitely better than nothing.

Leftover: Gosh, could it be love?

Chooser:  “hey, Leftover, do you wanna like really hang with me.  You’re cool.  I like you. ”

Leftover:  “YES!!  I really like you too!”

hmmmmm.  fishy.  And my little impressionable  imagination always expected I would be the Leftover.  ugh.  it hurt so much already, and I wasn’t even near the threshold of grown-up love.

While I still believe this whole idea is a bad one, in terms of relationships with human beings, I haaaave begun to embrace it where objects are concerned.

It works for that, I think.  This morning when I walked out of our tiny St. Johns condo, I had this mushy thought…”I love you, condo.”  The thought jumped out at me.  I couldn’t believe it!  I’ve spent months and months fighting this thought.  I mean, I’ve really put energy into it.  Ever since W and I merged our physical lives, I’ve struggled with our arrangements.

Yes, the condo is very very small.  It’s not in the neighborhood I would have opted to live in, had I been given the choice.  I don’t think the outside is the most charming.  Though this hasn’t happened much lately, we used to wake up to bar-closing drunken expletives trailing down the street.  And we’re still seeing completely annoying inartistic graffiti greet us on grumpy mornings before work.  and whiny whiny whine…But…

It’s so cozy inside.  It houses some of our lovely things, yes.  But it also houses us—keeps us warm, reminds us of funny things we said/did, holds our first 6 months of marriage, it’s sweet, it’s modest… and the neighborhood is actually one of the most beautiful in the city.  For me, Cathedral Park is competing for the top slot of the most beautiful parks in Portland, second only to the park we got married in.  The St. Johns community is exactly my favorite kind—non-pretentious, honest workers, trying to be the best it can be.  And recently I discovered, we actually do have friends who live up here.

picture from columbiariverimages.com

we have a place to call home.

with that alone, I have no problem loving the one I’m with.

***Song of the Moment: True or False, by Bishop Allen***