the (imaginary) simple life

I just wondered what I would have been had my life been simple. Let's imagine that I had chosen to live in my old hometown when I got married.

My grandmother's house comes free for whoever will decide to live there. There would be no monthly amortizations, but it'd be hell to clean four bedrooms, two terraces, two bathrooms, and a living room with two sala sets and the complete set of ancient carved narra furniture. Very much like a haunted house, and no airconditioning.

I'd wake up in the morning to the crow of roosters, because the back of the compound could house a 2-dozen rooster condominium, and I'm willing to bet my husband would install complete rooster amenities. I think we'd also have an assortment of cats inside the house, dogs by the front gate, and African lovebirds and cockatails in the front terrace. Remember too, the six-foot aquarium in the living room.

I'd dress my two kids for school; my nine-year-old would walk to the public school I had attended as a child, and I would caution her to watch out for tricycles and horses on the way. In that place, farmers on horses still trot the town streets in the morning on their way to the fields. Should the horse poop on the street, the farmer would dismount and neatly scoop the poop up, deposit it in the roadside drainage ditches, and gallop merrily away. The town folks frown on horse and dog poop in their immaculate streets. My two-year-old would be in the local day care center, and I'd chat with the other mothers while I plan what's for lunch.

I have a degree in Psychology, so I'd probably be working in the local cooperative, or in the rural bank, or in the municipal hall. Those are the only places where there are offices. Or I could be the local seamstress, specializing in fancy pillowcases and gowns for senior citizens' ballroom nights. I'm beginning to shudder.

I'm assuming that my husband would have some job of his own, perhaps a store for motorcycle/tricycle parts. And we'd have a ricefield or two to oversee, so we'd have a little income on the side, for when the roof needs repairs, or the dalmatian gets sick. (The dalmatian is, of course, a status symbol.)

I would bring my children to SM Lucena (3 hours away) for the occasional sightseeing, and they'd go to Manila Zoo on field trips (or maybe they do Manila Ocean Park now), and they'd dream of going to Manila for college, while I worry about saving up for their tuition and boarding house expenses. I'd do my vegetable buying on Thursdays, which is traditionally Market Day in town. And occasionally, in the evenings, you'd find me drinking lambanog with my girlfriends while I dispense fashion advice.

And would I be happy? Maybe. But what wouldn't change is the fact that here, in my daily 5-inch-heels and mini-dresses and dreams of an Italian vacation, or there, in the imaginary little-town life where I'll probably wear something nice when I go to church, I'll always want something more. Maybe I'll be a seamstress, but I'll probably want to become barangay captain. Or I'll pester town officials to build a town library.

The funny thing is, I can almost see myself doing just that. I'll probably be just as fine with that simple imaginary life, but I'll almost certainly succeed in making it complicated. (What ricefield? I'll probably wonder why we can't have a greenhouse and grow tulips.)