I received an email soliciting me to buy some personalized products. The subject was, “It’s a Hall thing.” Cute, eh? Except I looked and Sadie with tears and said, “the Hall’s are in Texas so it’s just our thing precious face.”  That email made me feel more alone than ever. Thanks, personalization company. You can forget me thinking of you positively ever again. Actually, it was a very cute product idea. If there were an actual family here, I would scoop up something with our names. 

Not to say that Sadie & I aren’t a family. If you saw the way I ran around looking for her after noticing I was folding clothes alone you would see we are clearly attached. Ok, I am attached. It was like I had lost a toddler in a store. I’m so incredibly used to that dog being beside me that when she wanders outside on her own, I freak out! That’s a family thing. We are one person and one dog, but we love each other. Our family doesn’t look very traditional I suppose–not in the way the email inferred–but we are a unit. 

I’d be lying if I denied telling myself that just to make me feel better. I have a list a mile long of stuff I need more arms and muscle to accomplish around here and yeah, there’s an empty spot that wants the family name to no longer be Hall (no offense, Dad; I’ll hyphenate if you want).  Everybody seems to have somebody or kids or siblings and I see pictures of you all on Facebook. It just drives home that of all the things I wanted when I set out on the journey of adulthood a long time ago, the feeling I long for most has yet to be part of my life.  And I don’t see the vision coming any closer to reality. 

In fact, I’m thinking the miracle of life is one I will never experience. Oh sure, I can physically and maybe even do it alone as so many suggest. But, that isn’t what I want. I don’t want a child just to have a child. I want a family. I want a partner more than just a body or a sperm donor. At this stage of the game, looking at a calendar, I think I would rather travel and experience things together rather than rush to procreate in the finite timeframe I have available. I mean, I’m not shutting the door completely–who knows what life will bring when you least expect it!!–but realistically, I cannot imagine building the kind of relationship and stability I would want to give to a child in a matter of a few years. And damnit, that’s not easy to swallow. Maybe my standards were too high? (Comments not necessary…the douchebaggery on the list of BF’s past doesn’t escape me…that’s a whole other blog)