Nothing to report ... yet
Another year has spun by. The
earth has rotated 366 times around its axis and revolved once around the sun. I
am another year older but no closer to discovering whatever it is I am looking
for. One of my kid’s friends posted a quote on facebook, “Instead of wondering when your next vacation is, maybe you should set up a life you don't need to escape from.”
Hmmm. Advice for me?
Yet. As the school year ends
and I have 7 months of glorious vacation ahead, I feel peace seeping, no surging,
into my veins, displacing worry and anxiety that I didn’t even know I had, pushing
it out through my very pores, freeing me of it, and leaving me blissfully relaxed
and almost obscenely serene. I am very much looking forward to my next
vacation. And I feel no shame at admitting this.
On the last afternoon of the
term the older female teachers all play hooky. We meet up at the ringleader’s
house to eat and drink together, splash in her pool, and tell outrageous
stories. I lie in a zero gravity chair in the sun laughing more than I can
remember doing in weeks. Life is perfect.
Also, all three of my boys
are currently thriving. (What more could any mother ever want?) There have been
molehills in front of one or all of them in past, molehills that frequently
looked like mountains, and I’m sure that there will be more in the future, but
at this very moment they are each gracefully metamorphosing into successful young
adults; they each have great girlfriends, strong peer groups, and excellent
jobs. Though different from each other they remain solid friends with one
another, do things together, and, also, do things with me. I SUP and bike with
my youngest, go out for wings and movies with my middle one, and sit and play
board games all through rainy weekends with my oldest. Their girlfriends are
always present and, though I have no idea what these lovely, beautiful,
intelligent young women really think of me, they are all well enough brought up
to include me in their activities with smiles on their faces. ‘All males are
alien,’ I say to my friends, as an excuse of my somewhat distant relationships
with my boys, though in fact, to me, all people are alien. A wee bit of me is
glad that I don’t have girls for I fear I wouldn’t be a good role model to
them. Having only male children allows me the freedom to be a bit more eccentric
and to not have to worry quite as much about the responsibility of guiding by example.
I haven’t decided what I am
going to do with the next 7 months yet. I have a list of chores as long as my
arm to complete first; get out of my lease, put my stuff in storage, apply for
a passport, find a boat to join… but 7 months seems long enough that I feel no
pressure to rush. I will muddle along, leave when I can, go where the winds
take me. My only goals are to be on the road, or water, by September, and to
meet a few new people, take a couple of photos, and write a blog entry or two
by Christmas.
It is, as they say, all good.
And, hopefully, in a month or
so, I will actually have something to report.
