needing more time is such a generic wish

And every one wants to become a two. Every two would like a half
that grows to a one. Even if it is snatched off the lawn and distributed
at family functions around the table with mashed potatoes, asparagus,
maybe the desert. It is country style and that one needs to be tasted.
They always do.

-- Vonn Gilmore, featured poet at brainboxpress.com

I am pop-culturally disconnected. Exhibit number one: I only recently saw the critically acclaimed film, Juno. In said film, a teenage girl weathers a darkly comical, strangely beautiful pregnancy with her motley support crew of her straight-shooting father, puppy-obssessed stepmother, stereotypically ditzy cheerleader friend, oddly (and eventually tragically) matched adoptive parents, and adorable, aloof, impregnator slash best friend. The dialogue - like that of many movies and TV shows I enjoy - is too quick and witty to be realistic. The pace, however, of this often hilarious, sometimes poignant banter is justified. It succeeds in revealing the lighter side of teenage pregnancy, dicsipline, angst, and love.

After watching Juno, it's tough not to be charmed by the idea of carrying life and ultimately giving it to a couple who could not create "a half" themselves. And, perhaps unintentionally, this solidly soundtracked film suggests that keeping a new pink bundle might be ... [insert adjective encompassing fun, fulfilling, and not entirely farfetched].

Which returns me neatly to the title of this post: with what time? So many of us are consumed with the hilarious and poignant pace of our own lives, that creating and caring for another seems beyond reasonable. And chronologically more pressing is the troublesome process of "becoming two." Usually coupledom is a prerequisite for bringing halves to family picnics for cheek pinching and asparagus.

Ticking clocks notwithstanding, I appreciate Gilmore's stance that we all are (or should be) completed "ones" looking for another whole unit. I never bought into the whole "finding a better half" mentality. Nor do I subscribe to a destined "one," a la Prince Charming to find my abandoned shower sandal and sweep me off my calloused feet. Frankly, I'd prefer a tic-tac-loving, track-running, awkward best friend. Here's to the Junos out there: making happy mistakes and finding unlikely happy endings.