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missy: if this was my other life, my i-never-met-my-husband-

and-had-amazing-kids life, i would be drinking beer

and selling tshirts at a skeevy texas country concert.

me: which do you prefer?

missy: i should think it would be obvious.

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If I got a tattoo, it would probably say something shameless, like Honky Tonk Angel. It would also probably incorporate all the things I have seen and secretly admired on the arms and backs of people scarier than me, like the Virgin of Guadalupe and mysterious names followed by dates that are too close together. People would see it and think, This girl must mean business. I may blush when I mispronounce Kaibab Trail or routinely trip on level ground, but this tattoo will absolve me of all the embarassment of day-to-day living.
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Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I'm breathless with confusion. When I was younger I used to cup my hands around my eyes and tilt my head back until I was staring straight up into the darkening sky, and pretend I was falling into all the places up there no one knows about. That same feeling comes back while my feet search for the floor, one hand shielding my eyes from the sun. There's an edge here, a point where things have to change, and I feel it challenge me when I soft enough to sense it but not alert enough to face the reality there. It dissipates somewhat when my feet hit the floor and head off to make some toast. We watch each other over the counter while I microwave my oatmeal.