I Wonder What I Envy?

Envy. It’s one of the seven deadly sins. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s fillintheblank, but who doesn’t? Who doesn’t look at that green green grass over there, and forget to notice her own garden? Well, me, because I’m perfect.

Just kidding. I covet, all over the place.

I covet super jane’s faith. Wicked M’s photography skills. MSO’s wit.

I covet Darlin’s focus and quiet certainty. Sass’s easy attitude. Schmitten’s naptime. Schmupp’s boundless energy.

I covet a non-pregnant woman’s wine and martinis and Brie and cold cuts and stomach muscles. Her quick and coordinated body. Her usefulness. I envy a mother her labor experience, done, lived through, a mark on her history, a moment of triumph, her children the badge of bravery. I envy a single and childless woman’s freedom to go anywhere, live anywhere, be anyone.

I covet the old-marrieds’ years together. I covet the newly-engageds’ enthusiasm.

I want to be a college student again, and have my 20s to look forward to. I want to be 90 years old, a great-grandmother, and have a wonderful life to look back on.

I want to be rich, and know a luxurious life on yachts in the Caribbean and ski resorts in the Alps. I want to be poor, and know that I have nothing at all to lose. I want to be British and have a great accent. I want to be Heidi Klum and have a great body. I want to live in St. John and flourish on conch fritters and Coronas.

I envy the actor, musician, Peace Corps missionary, writer, exotic locale tour guide, and naturalist her career. I envy investment bankers, CEOs, and Steve Jobs their money. I am jealous of George Clooney’s, John Corbett’s, and Paul Bettany’s girlfriends.

In almost every life I see, I notice something that I would like to have. Some days, when I’m not feelin’ the mental health, it makes me a little sick inside to think of what they have that I don’t. Most days, when I’m feeling good, this becomes an opportunity to appreciate someone else’s life choices, their downfalls and windfalls.

I know there’s a lot growing in my own garden that others look upon with a sigh of desire. A happy marriage, in the first bloom of love. A loving pair of animals, in perfect health. A home of our own. A large and loving family, both in blood and in law. A new soul, about to be born, whose body I created inside my own. A lovely blue room waiting for him.

These are the seeds I sowed. And I can sigh with pleasure and a little longing when I look at somebody else’s little patch of grass, but I know deep down that if I were standing there, I’d be looking at what I’d left behind and sighing just as loudly.