Do you ever catch yourself doing something particularly modern and think We Live In the Future and isn’t that amazing?
It’s the respected position to tout keeping it simple, especially at this time of year, and I’m all for that. But, let’s get real, all the simple keeping, the quiet and the cozy and the wooden bowls collecting bits of nature on the coffee table, all of that is documented with my smartphone and shared on instagram and text messaged and tweeted about and totally swallowed up in technology. And I think that’s pretty fantastic.
You won’t find me idealizing times past, not my own unplugged early years or little houses on the prairies.
I’m sure Pa’s fiddle would be fine, if that’s all I knew, but let me tell you what, it’s got nothing on Spotify. I have been using spotify for months and my mind is still blown every day. Whatever (almost) I want to listen to: there it is. As often as I want to hear it. Much to the dismay of my daughter who criticizes my favorite music as “too depressing.” Whatever, she has her own account. It’s mellow in the office and dance party in the dining room. Spotify is awesome and we live in the future and isn’t that fine?
Music streaming aside, I’ve been thinking a lot about the future as it pertains to my wee babe. You know what happened to babies like Ulysses a really long time ago? They died. Of course, even now not everyone survives open heart surgery. But that wasn’t always even an option. And congenital heart defects aside, if you have a baby born with non-functional legs, you don’t think for one second you wish you lived in the past. Who knows what advancements might be available by the time he’s grown.
And we can’t go back anyway. We’re all of us here living our futuristic lives, driving toward more future and we really have no idea what is ahead of us, except that we have to hope it’s bright.
The day we drove to the hospital to have this baby, I said to my husband that I just wanted to keep driving, to run away from all of this, pretend it never happened. I mostly don’t feel like that anymore. Maybe a little. It’s overwhelming, all of it. But here we are.
I’ve been listening to a lot of The National this last week. Runaway from the High Violet album has been in heavy rotation on my Spotify. My girl thinks it’s frustratingly glum, but I repeat the chorus over and over, to myself and to my family, a promise. Isn’t that what the future is all about?