How many times does one begin to write, quickly decide they have nothing worth while to say, and shelf the idea for another time? The number is different for all of us, I’m sure. For myself, it’s excruciatingly high and I dare not try to count them all. Today, however, I decided to show up for myself. I have no idea where we are going or how I might get us there, but I do know it’s going to be an adventure.
The adventure of a 40 something, almost empty nester, who may make learning a second language her New Years Resolution. I am definitely an expert in those areas. Never mind the part where I’m the mom of 3 boys: One all-American college graduate; one overachiever; one that is an extraordinarily high-functioning dude with autism; all of which has taught me how to be a grounded, insane-ly proud mother. I wasn’t born with that set of skills, that’s for sure. I suppose I could thank my eldest son for nudging me… Uhm, shoving me into motherhood. As a 19 year old, unwed, college Sophomore, he was not on my immediate to-do list. I made the tough decision to become a mother. And, yes, for me, it was a choice. But, that’s a topic for another day. Guilt, like spite, can be highly motivating emotions. Fast forward through a plethora of mistakes coupled with undeniable pride and that’s about where I sit today. I’ll get to that “plethora” later, no doubt.
It’s funny, the direction a story can take as you begin to retell it. I have no preconceived notion of where mine is going. Shoot, half of it hasn’t happened yet… Assuming I live the length of a natural lifetime. That morbid thought aside, I have a great deal of interest in how my story is told. So many moments… So many twists… Good and Bad. Life is truly a roller coaster and I’ve had a ticket to ride since 1972.