Have you ever heard something that was completely improbable and to your complete and utter surprise, watch it be proven despite the incongruence of its very existence? Have you ever known in the core of your being that something was totally impossible, and watch it happen before your very eyes?
For example, as a child, I was told of flying fish. I couldn’t picture anything more polarly opposite: fish must stay in water, and have no appendages or wings for flying through the air, even if they could survive in our foreign atmosphere (which they can’t). I’ve never seen flying fish, but now I know that they exist. I can only imagine my utter, jaw-dropping surprise when the fish would launch out of the water, and I would see their glistening bodies in the air, if only for a moment. I would be speechless. Fish, creatures of the water, soaring through the air like leaves, butterflies, birds. Insanity defined—and yet here, in front of my eyes, it would occur.
Or the idea of carnivorous plants. That a plant would eat an animal or an insect was preposterous. There was no way, not by any stretch of the imagination. But yet, there they are, in tropical, vast rainforests thousands of miles from my suburban home. Venus fly traps, pitcher plants: I’ve seen video footage of them, watched them snatch a wasp from the air, heard the ant plop into the acid in the base of the red and green flower. I couldn’t believe it: a plant eating something besides sunlight, water and time. Absurdity at its best—and yet here, in front of my eyes, it occurred.
Or even that simple happening of everyday life: watching someone grow up. I was at the hospital when my cousin was born six years ago. I stared down at that little newborn in the hospital’s uncomfortable crib where she lay in the harsh light, still covered in that weird white stuff that I had no clue what was, all red and wrinkly and crying. I held her a few days later, handed her back to her mother as that little bundle of outrage screamed at the top of her lungs, and I announced guiltily that babies didn’t like me. And here she is, six years later, telling me that she’s Super Grace, and she’s going to marry Justin Bieber, and one day she’s going to live with me in a big house and she’s going to have a limo. I watch her, skipping through my kitchen, learning to count by twos, tossing her two-foot long red hair over her shoulder like Ariel does in The Little Mermaid. She went from a tiny, screaming baby to an adorable five-year-old. Incredible to be sure—and yet, here, in front of my very eyes, it occurred.
It seems like life is full of these inconceivable contradictions, these things that are not possible by any stretch of the imagination—but they are. It’s amazing, how something can seem to be so opposite from itself, the very definition of an oxymoron, but it’s true. It’s real. It happened, it’s happening, and it will keep happening. Insanity. Absurdity. Wonderful, incredible reality.
I guess what I’m trying to say is…
I DANCED ON FRIDAY AND SATURDAY
AND I WAS GOOD