I’ve resisted the thought of this blog being about coming of age, because let’s face it: It's mostly just an outlet for the running commentary in my head.
But I was thinking this morning about how as adolescents and young twenty-somethings we want our lives to be original. We want proof that we are special and that our life is different. Now I find myself just hoping that my life isn’t different…that the things happening to me as I get older are the same as what happens to other women my age.
I’m always thinking about the future, about retirement, about our golden years. It occurred to me this week that I’m 27, and my dad will be 54 next month. Essentially that means at 27 he was at mid-life. So maybe that knowledge has started my own mid-life crisis. The other day my dear husband and I were sitting on the couch watching TV, and I turned to him and said,
“If Tina needs to sell stuff do you think we could buy the BMW?” (the BMW is a yellow motorcycle of my dad’s)
He turned to me, surprised,
“Neither of us knows how to ride a motorcycle.”
“I know, but I think it would be fun.”
He turned back to the TV. We didn’t discuss it further.
When I was a baby my dad had a motorcycle he sold because his kids were still young. When I graduated from high school in 2000 he bought a Harley. I heard whispers and outright jokes about a midlife crisis, but now I can’t tell you how glad I am that he did some of those things. It's vindication...He was right to do all those things he wanted to do--no matter how strange it looked to outsiders.
Dad and Tina spent the intervening years working and taking long vacations to exotic locales. They went to Belize, Costa Rica, Europe, and Thailand. They rode motorcycles in different countries, spent weekends going on poker runs, and always walked into our house with sweaty hair and their bright leather jackets. They sampled exotic cuisine, got sick from the cuisine, swam in rivers running through caves, drank beer with the locals, and once dad even got hit by a Tuk Tuk. He had more than a few brushes with death.
Oh, but he lived. He lived.
What an extraordinary legacy he is leaving for his children and grandchildren.
3 comments:
I said this very thing to Geoff on Sunday night. Nobody can say Brian hasn't grabbed onto life and lived with real gusto. I admire him for many things and this is certainly one.
xoxoxo
I'd buy it - so what if you can't ride a bike? You can learn. I had to sell my bike to pay for a kitchen when I was 5 months pregnant with number 2.
It was a Ducati, and it was the love of my life. I'd secretly always wanted a bike, and one day just realised if you don't do something about secret wishes, they can never come true. So I did my test, and got the bike.
And oh my God, it was so much fun. When my kids are grown up (or when I can afford it!) I'll be getting another one. You've got to live a little, even if it involves a bit of danger.
This quote about your blog: "It's mostly just an outlet for the running commentary in my head."...is the best description of *my* blog I've ever heard too! lol
Love your blog and thanks for stopping by Pajamas and Coffee- come back again soon!
xo
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