I grow old. Everyday there is some reminder of this over arching fact; a creak in the knee, a bad tooth, the slowness of my metabolism, the longing to be able to run and jump like my grandson. I will never be as thin, or as energetic as I was at 20 or even 30 for that matter. I am on that down slope, that steep hill that you have climbed, gone over and are now careening towards the bottom of. The last thirty years have flashed past and I find myself in a bit of a panic. If the next thirty years go as fast, well then, I am as good as dead already.
I don't want to fade out, to drift away like so many of the women in my life have done. They did not live vibrant lives, they withered and fell away. I don't want this, I want to find that vibrancy, that explosion of passion and creativity that as of yet, has eluded me. I feel it, sometimes, a tingle that says there is still time. But it is like gossamer, or soap bubble, hard to grasp hold of.
The desire for success has not been strong enough in my bones to push me towards anything. But now, as I am in that hazy shade of winter (or am I still in Autumn?) I find a longing inside me, a sadness that was there when I was 18, and now has returned. Inside my head I am still that 18 year old who longed for so much. But then it was all ahead of me, all waiting. Now it is mostly behind.
One thing I regret is how much time I wasted, and energy, on falling in and out of love, or being all dreamy and pie-eyed about it. I had no idea what love was, I just liked the feeling it gave me. I was a girl stricken with a bad case of Bovarism...like Emma Bovary, I wanted out of the hum-drum, longed to be somewhere else. I should have used that energy to create something lasting.
I do not regret my children. I would and do live and die for them. And I am so blessed to have beautiful grandchildren. But I cannot just ride on the laurels of birthing great kids...I have to do more, I am compelled to do more. What life I may have left I cannot waste, I shall not fade out.
I want to explode into the sky... a super nova. Quiet little thing that I am, I long to make a stir, leave a mark, contribute to the greater dialogue. Subtly of course.
I don't want to fade out, to drift away like so many of the women in my life have done. They did not live vibrant lives, they withered and fell away. I don't want this, I want to find that vibrancy, that explosion of passion and creativity that as of yet, has eluded me. I feel it, sometimes, a tingle that says there is still time. But it is like gossamer, or soap bubble, hard to grasp hold of.
The desire for success has not been strong enough in my bones to push me towards anything. But now, as I am in that hazy shade of winter (or am I still in Autumn?) I find a longing inside me, a sadness that was there when I was 18, and now has returned. Inside my head I am still that 18 year old who longed for so much. But then it was all ahead of me, all waiting. Now it is mostly behind.
One thing I regret is how much time I wasted, and energy, on falling in and out of love, or being all dreamy and pie-eyed about it. I had no idea what love was, I just liked the feeling it gave me. I was a girl stricken with a bad case of Bovarism...like Emma Bovary, I wanted out of the hum-drum, longed to be somewhere else. I should have used that energy to create something lasting.
I do not regret my children. I would and do live and die for them. And I am so blessed to have beautiful grandchildren. But I cannot just ride on the laurels of birthing great kids...I have to do more, I am compelled to do more. What life I may have left I cannot waste, I shall not fade out.
I want to explode into the sky... a super nova. Quiet little thing that I am, I long to make a stir, leave a mark, contribute to the greater dialogue. Subtly of course.
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