Does Naseem Hrab need her nephew's love potion to find happiness? Or can she make her own magic?
Some Notes on the Requirement of Hope is an personal essay by Naseem Hrab
Some Notes on the Requirement of Hope is an original essay by Naseem Hrab. It is part of Healing, a special series of new, original writing featuring work by the English-language winners of the 2022 Governor General's Literary Awards, presented in partnership with the Canada Council for the Arts. Read more works from Healing here.
A few months ago, my sister-in-law told me that my nephew made a love potion to help me find a boyfriend. I wasn't surprised to hear that my nephew made a potion — he is, after all, six years old. But I was surprised to hear that he cared enough to make one for me. Anytime I happen to talk about dating when he's around, he's glibly dismissed it as "weird" and walked off to watch The Epic Tales of Captain Underpants.
As embarrassing as it is to admit, I felt hopeful about his potion. But after a string of unsuccessful dating attempts, I start to suspect the formula might be off. I probe my nephew for more details. What if the ratio of mud to grass was incorrect? Is he absolutely sure it was a full moon? He stares at me blankly. He's forgotten about the potion. Then he cackles, remembering, and gleefully says, "I flushed it down the toilet."
But after a string of unsuccessful dating attempts, I start to suspect the formula might be off. I probe my nephew for more details.
Welp. That explains things.
At 41 years old, I find myself unexpectedly single and childless. I have always wanted to have kids and my own family. I naively thought I would meet my person and these parts of my life would fall into place.
And it's not for lack of trying. I've swiped, messaged, mingled and met. Gone to all the parties, gatherings and shows because I'm told "you never know who you'll meet." Spent time in the self-help aisle and therapy, only to conclude that obviously I'm perfect, so it must be the universe's fault. Did I mention the stand-up comedy classes?
It just hasn't happened for me yet. And unless my circumstances miraculously change, I'm worried it might be too late.
I've always been an anxious person and I've realized that the part of my brain that I use to worry is the same part that helps me write books for children. It's the part that constantly asks, "What if?" What if a mild-mannered snail really loves to party, but only quietly? What if a long-haired guinea pig needs a haircut, but is too afraid to get one? What if you don't meet someone who loves you as much as you love them? What if you write books for kids, but you never get to share them with kids of your own?
I've always been an anxious person, and I've realized that the part of my brain that I use to worry is the same part that helps me write books for children.
I didn't think I'd have to tell those last two stories and yet some days, I find myself wanting to skip to the chapter where I have the epiphany, come to accept the fate I never thought I wanted, and learn the all-healing lesson that makes everything okay. The sadness I'm experiencing because of this anticipatory grief is too much and I want to be past it. How do you find out how your story will unfold, if you're not the one writing it?
I try to tell myself not to worry about those what ifs just yet, but apparently, I'm not a very good listener. Over the last year, I keep crying. Like when I explore freezing my eggs at a fertility clinic to buy myself some time. Or when the officiant at my cousin's wedding told me that she can't keep up with the demand for her services. Or when I realize that, as hard as it is to feel alone when bad things happen, it's even harder to feel alone when good things happen.
I'm a children's book author. Am I required to be hopeful?
I'm a children's book author. Am I required to be hopeful? I know I'm supposed to write about wild dreams coming true, and happily-ever-afters, and characters that feel as whole as real friends. Life, real life, is filled with all those things. But it's also filled with hard things, broken promises and imperfect endings. Love potions flushed away. It feels more truthful to mix happiness and sadness together. Real life is bittersweet. We don't always get a hug or a shoulder to cry on when we need it and our worries can't always be reassured away. I like to say that I write stories for anyone who needs a soft spot to land.
I think it's because I'm still searching for mine.
The inspiration
Naseem Hrab: "I always thought I would get married, have kids, make my own family, but at 41 years old, my life hasn't turned out that way... at least not yet.
"Instead, I'm having a hard time meeting someone who is looking for the same things as me, and my six-year-old nephew is rallying his daycare friends to make a love potion to 'help Auntie Naseem get a boyfriend.' I find myself wanting to move beyond this pain of potentially not having kids before I've been through it. But how can I write the ending before it happens?"
About Naseem Hrab
Naseem Hrab is a Toronto-based writer and storyteller. She is the author of How to Party Like a Snail, Otis & Peanut, Weekend Dad, which was a finalist for the 2020 Governor General's Literary Prize for young people's literature — illustrated books, and The Sour Cherry Tree, which won the 2022 Governor General's Literary Award for young people's literature — illustrated books.
About the series Healing
CBC Books asked the 2022 Governor General's Literary Award winners to contribute an original piece of writing on the theme of healing. Some Notes on the Requirement of Hope was Naseem Hrab's contribution to the series.
- Na-naan-dah-wih-i-way by Eli Baxter
- When Big Healing Comes in Small Ways by Dorothy Dittrich
- This Story is Against Resilience, Supports Screaming As Needed by Jen Ferguson
- Lilly in the Wintertime by Sheila Heti
- The Invisible Cage by Nahid Kazemi
- Circumference by Annick MacAskill
- Possessions by Judith Weisz Woodsworth
