By: Tanya Ward Goodman
I’ve been looking for things. I’ve been looking for a car for my mom. A sweatshirt for my kid. I’ve been looking for a recipe for ice cream and a pair of flat-soled sandals. I’ve looked for dog sitters and low interest loans. Just for kicks, I looked for a lakeside cabin and a room at the Four Seasons.
When I sit down in front of the computer, I have the whole world at my fingertips. I could look for a flat in Paris, a rug in Turkey, a flight to Stowe, Vermont. I could seek out that poem I read in tenth grade – you know the one about the strawberries that was really about sex? I could look for bedside tables or chamomile tea and some days, I do. Time speeds past as “I wonder?” becomes, “oh, that much?”
When I’m not at the computer, I look for shoes and socks, for the flip top of a water bottle and for the little pink dress that belongs to Olivia the doll. I look for a missing lunchbox and a misplaced jacket. I look for the dog and I look for things that she might chew. Around about six, when I’m looking through the fridge for dinner, I start looking for my husband to return.
I need to do less looking. I need to find myself sitting in a chair, looking at a book or looking out the window. I’d like to look in order to see and not just to find.