Children's Games

In another life I'd be the perfect house wife. I'd bake chicken pot pies that tasted rich with flaky crusts and velvet saucy fillings that are delicious. I'd make morning pastries to feed my adoring husband before I kissed him goodbye, before he headed to work. When busy, I'd be rich enough to buy treats or trade with friends for them. I'd complete all my domestic tasks while I worried over my husbands return, without a way to communicate with him. By night I'd wait for my husband to sleep then sneak away to a gathering of friends for the meeting of my secret society. The only break from my god fearing womanly ways as the domestic matriarch of my household. So much stronger than my female form exhibits. I'd pardon myself, knowing my actions aligned with the times. I'd be an artist in my own right. I'd have a male pen name that society comes to adore, as much as my husband does me. A Renaissance woman during the Renaissance. Full of new ideas and the energy to embrace it.

Juggling a double life and doing it all creatively would be easy for me, easier than the works I'd be creating. Meeting the minds of the most interesting and knowledgeable of the time would be my daily inspiration.  Learning from kind fascinating souls wouldn't be out of reach for me in my town. I'd be learning carpentry and dance simultaneously; cooking and swords play; costuming and map making; Writing and the stars; Opium and food; Angling and Medicine; Pottery and mechanics. Through my secret society and audacious nature I'd have the capacity to learn it all to the best of my abilities. Enough to get by on my own, but not needing to. I'd hear talk around town about papers written under my pen name, leaving me tickled and confident. Waiting for the day my secret didn't have to be kept a secret. Waiting to see the look of admiration from my husbands revelation when it's revealed and confirmed I'm who he and his friends have been reading. A hypostatic union concluding with me as sociologists as much as an artist.

I'd be wealthy enough, through my husband, that we could trade for chocolates, spices, and other delicacies. I'd have a new age home. A structure emblematic of the concepts discussed at our secret meetings. One with a seperate compartment used for my secret meetings. All spaces harmonious. The symmetry a visual display proving mathematical points as much as artistic ones. I'd stand under the curved archway as I wait for my guests to make the way up the path. A patient bride to knowledge as art. The stucco and plaster walls housing a comfortable space to invite the greatest minds of the Italian Renaissance. From my home in its northern location, it all would feel possible. I'd coin terms to encapsulate the transformation taking hold. Words with tremendous meaning, as Jules michelet had.

I'd be me, but better. I would have apprenticed under many noteworthy individuals growing up. These individuals would have offered me a comprehensive education. I wouldn't be piecing together recipes trying to scrounge up all the ingredients, realizing I've forgotten one and then needing to make due. All that, just to eat a mediocre meal that took me hours to make lasting only minutes to consume. I wouldn't be buying larger clothes just so I can throw them in the dryer and still have them fit after. Knowing all along, the other size fit better now. I wouldn't be stressed by a bathroom fix or painting, knowing the time I make for it will leave me tired all week. I wouldn't write a story, rip it up, just to re-print the same one again, realizing nothing better lived inside me. My confidence would come from more than me saying "well at least I tried and I'm still doing it, that's the important part. I'm here". I'd be a Renaissance woman during the Renaissance. New ideas would come to me as easily as dreams come during sleep. Inspiration coming through everything I encounter. I'd have recipes memorized and perfected. I'd trade in the drink of sour grapes for wine. I'd be an inventor, inventing new recipes others sought out. I'd be it all. A Renaissance woman during the Renaissance. The world would feel like it's at my finger tips. Anything could be possible. A Descartes of my own creation, I'd teach as much as I learned. A shepherd leading others to a better future. Leading all to a new Eden, to replace the one we lost. Whose original location is still a mystery and debatable. Was it Baghdad? What would it matter?! It's here. It's now. I'd understand the importance of the Medici Family, while steering clear of them. Praising them, gratefully, for the banking practices I use. Again blessing their name along with the almighty every day at my table as I eat off plates and platters with my fork. I'd stay humble, keeping away from notoriety and fame. Human centric, not individually motivated. Life acting as commendation for our nightly efforts.

My home and clothing would sport wool from Spain and other sensible fabrics we make or trade for. My meats would be spiced served along side grains, vegetables,  fruits, gnocchis made of cheeses and flour; the original way. Salads would embroider my plates with fresh pops of color from greens and floral elements. Lemons decorating the center of my table brought here and cultivated by my Arabic friends would be the perfect fresh decor. I'd sit with leonardo, Michael Angelo, Titian, Copernicus, Machiaveli, Bacon, Petrarch, Rafael, Galileo, etc. People close and from afar would be invited to join my secret society. Knowing my best friend was found in Ibn Rushd(Ibn Sinna or Avencinna) and all his contributions. While textiles, math and Ideas populate the space crowding even the air until it's so intoxicating one becomes drunk off it. Almost unable to focus on one thought as anxs and excitement gets the better of our human curiosity. No one noticing or giving thought to the clutter, remnants, padding our feet by the end of the night while we dance in a hopeful future to new compositions composed out of this new light we've all found. While soft druming, a lute and quiet vocals of a few translate to a metaphysical poem being physically acted out, a gift to all those observing.

I would be a prominent member of what would secretly be known as the illuminated masons before it broke into the illuminati and the freemasons, as happened with the breakdown of the Renaissance and into the Reformation. After all, we were illuminated masons with knowledge pumping through our veins and a desire to discover and reveal more. Just more, as I sing never enough for me, knowing the world always has more to offer. Promises more through every unanswered question.

I would have been the figure missing from history in any other existing life path. I'm one who helps eliminate the breakdown between various city-states, groups and countries. A figure pointing to our homogeneous nature, even in the ways of our waring nature. Begging for all efforts to be redirected through understanding for humanities cause. A figure propelling the Renaissance on, so it becomes a staple way instead of an era ushered in and then out.

I'd know the difference between paints, possibly putting nationality aside to trade for linseed oil paints for something different than the one's I mixed using egg. Creating works of art for my home and friends. Selling works only when needed, to get a gift for my husband or children, maybe books or items to further my secret society's involvements. Deepening it's roots, making our foundation sturdy and nearly impossible to eradicate. I'm a Renaissance woman during the Renaissance.

A paw smacks at my lap knocking the phone from my hands. A rough tongue hanging out the side of my panting dogs mouth, as she gives a few slobbery kisses on my hand. Stopping, she sniff the dropped phone and steps on it.

"Guess she felt you've been on your phone too long.", my husband suggests.

I pick it up, checking the screen for cracks.

"What's for dinner? Something smells like it's burnt. What have you been doing?"

"I completely burned what I was making for dinner. How about Italian?"

"Pasta again?"

"Unless you want to eat really late."

"Thats fine. Pasta it is. What were you doing anyways?"

"Children's Games"


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