TURNING

Richshaw wallah begs the question
Are all these red lights just suggestions?
Oh it’s gonna be okay
They know dead men can’t pay
- Sarala, Caedmon’s Call

Once, while I was still single, I sat down and wrote an open letter to my friends who were married, titling the letter “Rickshaws Have Three Wheels And They Work Just Fine”. I had become a little sad and hurt and frustrated by the comments of a couple of friends whom I saw less and less. Each claimed she didn’t want me to feel like a third wheel when it was her, her husband, and me hanging out. Each also said she didn’t want to drag me into the chaos of her life with young kids. In the letter, I laid out what I’d tried to tell them when we did see each other: I enjoyed seeing their kids, and didn’t feel like a third wheel. I just liked their company, no matter who else was around, and was in fact a bit honored to be allowed into the chaos of everyday life.

I found the letter the other day and thought about how I’m no longer the friend who is single. I’ve joined the club of those who are married and those who have kids. My friends who are single are still incredibly important to me. Some of them, in fact, have been better about staying in touch through the rapid succession of major changes in my life (marriage and motherhood) than some of my married friends. A new phase in life doesn’t mean I don’t love my friends who are single any less. I spent many, many years being single, wondering if marriage and parenthood would play out for me or not. Singleness is challenging at times, freeing in others, and no less indicative of a full and beautiful life. In fact, it’ll be important for my son to know that marriage (as wonderful as it can be) is not the end-all, be-all, but that he can be happy and fulfilled on his own.

In the letter, I wrote to my friends about how we met in our early twenties, single and dreaming romantically of marriage. When each of them got married, I was so happy, for I had seen the growing love with them and their spouses and the excitement for the new chapter of life. Being present for the wedding day of each was a joy, and the times when I got invited into the new life of marriage and motherhood was a gift. Were there moments of feeling like I was on the outside looking in? Little pockets of jealousy for what I didn’t have? Yes. Yet, it was mostly just happiness.

“Remember being single” my younger self wrote. “Sure, sometimes there’s spontaneous outings and irresponsibly late weeknights, but other times there’s cereal for dinner in front of my computer because cooking for one doesn’t sound all that worth it and I need the noise of a laugh track to fill the empty apartment. Remember both the glamor and the heartache. You’ve never rubbed it in that you’re married and I’m not. We both want for me to join the club, am I right? So, let’s talk about it. Let’s talk over wine or Kool-Aid, whichever happens first at your life’s pace.”

So, to my friends who are single: I absolutely want you in my life and want to make time for you. If it’s okay, I may have a baby or husband in tow most frequently, yet I also need time away when it’s just the two of us, like old times. I never want to be the friend you never see anymore because of marriage and kids. You are important and valued.

Please know that I never see you as a third wheel, and even so, three wheels shouldn’t be a bad thing; rickshaws have three wheels and they work just fine, as do penny-farthing bicycles, motorcycles with sidecars, and the Bat Mobile. In fact, they don’t simply function but may, in fact, be just a little bit wonderful. This weird and wonderful life, turning ever onwards.