(and it only took us 1-1/2 hours!
I've been a bit distracted lately. Most days, it feels as if I'm not fully
present at all. Blame it on overwork, stressful
challenges, or lack of a vacation, the result is still the same: I'm missing out on my own life.
As if to punctuate the fact that I've been living in a fog, I
mistakenly put body wash in my hair the other day instead of shampoo. There's nothing like smelling the scent of
"Energizing Citrus Ginger" where it's not supposed to be in order to jolt
me to attention.
Realizing that I need to make some changes in order to
restore some semblance of balance, I began examining the way that I've been
living. If I'm honest, I'll admit that
I'm rarely mindful of whatever I'm doing, and I tend to hop from activity to
activity at a frenetic pace. I'm rushing
through life and missing out on its joys.
I need to slow down, plain and simple.
At the same time as my stop-and-smell-the-roses epiphany, my
son Evan began bugging me about accompanying him and his class on an overnight
field trip. There will be lots of
driving, chaperoning other people's children, and, most distressing of all,
sleeping in a tent.
A tent! Doesn't he
realize that I seriously love electricity and indoor plumbing? And what about
the woods? I'm a poison ivy and wolf
spider magnet! My biggest worry,
however, is kind of embarrassing.
Thinking of it makes me feel old and out of shape. Of course, it
doesn't help that I AM old and out of shape.
When my stiff and aged body meets the hard, unyielding
ground beneath that tent, I'm not sure what's going to happen. I mean, I'm far from being anything
resembling flexible. What if I go to
sleep on the floor of the tent and can't get back up? I imagine a muscle spasm so severe that I'm
forced to lie there, paralyzed, while
everyone else contemplates whether or not to bring in the Jaws of Life to free
me.
But then, there's my sweet boy, wanting his mom to go with
him. At age twelve, he's becoming more
of a young man and less of a child every day.
I'm not sure how much longer he's going to feel this enthusiastic about
having me around. What if this trip is
the last time? How would I feel if I
miss it?
Before I could talk myself out of it, I signed up for the
trip. I can do anything for one night, right? Even if it does mean sleeping in a tent and
putting myself out there as bear food.
Best case scenario:
we won't get eaten by bears, I won't get stuck in the tent, and I'll
make some happy memories with my kid.
Worst case scenario?
I'll have plenty of stories to write about. Just as soon as they free me from that tent.
*photo by Lisa Kern
No comments:
Post a Comment