Christine, Isidro, and the girls just left to go back to McAllen. Ken and I stood in the road waving and blowing kisses until they disappeared around the S-turn. It seems we are at that time in life where every hello eventually means a goodbye. Our house goes from quiet to exploding with kids, grandkids, and energy and back to quiet in such a flash of a moment. I miss the constant energy of children. Sometimes. Other times I love the solitude and peace of Ken and I just bumping around out here on the ranch.
I've been thinking about my life and decisions past. Missed opportunities. Some due to fear of the unknown, some to ignorance, some to lifestyle choices. But I keep coming back to the fact that I love my life. There were things I wish I'd done differently, but it is what it is and here I am.
I have two big regrets. The first is that I didn't explore more opportunities to create. I had such a limited idea of what art was, that I never could find an outlet. Sounds silly, but Burning Man opened that up for me. It showed me that art can be anything. Self expression takes many many forms, and they are all wonderful and important. Anything that lifts your heart, or releases something from within you is art. Negative or positive. To release your fears and dreams into the universe is a gift to you and to me. Even art you think is really bad is a thing of beauty to someone else. The artist that releases their insides to the world in any form has no idea how far the ripples of their influence spread. But, to get better at whatever it is, you have to do it. Just do it, and do it again. And then do it again. Learn from what you think is a mistake and try something else. My mistakes are what have pushed me into trying something new. And Leslie was right. Thinking creatively about one thing opened my mind and heart to thinking creatively about the rest of my life. Yes, I'm still stuck in a cubicle, but I'm thinking outside of it to come up with ideas and solutions to changing my life. I'm not just sitting there feeling the greyness of it all collapsing around on me.
My other regret is not buying the picture of Tyler and I on The Rattler at Six Flags when he was in 6th grade. I can pull that moment back up in my mind at will, but I would love to share that picture with Tyler's children. Tyler hated roller coasters. Deathly afraid. He hated any kind of ride that spun him around really, but add height to the equation and the sweet boy was miserable. I don't think he'd ever actually ridden one, just looking at them he knew that wasn't for him. I was convinced that if I just got him on one he would get past the fear and have fun with it. After all he loved rollerblading and skateboarding. He would jump any ramp, ride any rail, but looking back on it in those activities he had some measure of control. On a roller coaster you are at the mercy of the rail and the safety bar.
Somehow on that day at Six Flags I managed to convince Tyler of the funness of getting past your fear. That getting whipped around in a metal cage on a wooden roller coaster would be a blast. And this was back before Six Flags rebuilt the Rattler to tame it a little. People actually were getting whiplash, but I didn't know that at the time of course. I worked on Tyler from the time we got to the park, pointing out all the people getting off the different roller coasters, how they were all laughing and smiling. Finally at about 4:00 in the afternoon Tyler gave in. But you PROMISE it's fun right mom? Yes Tyler, I promise it's fun.
In the picture Six Flags takes on that very first big drop at the very beginning of the ride I am laughing hysterically and I am decidedly NOT looking at Tyler. Because when I looked at him the split second before they took the picture he was glaring at me with such hatred and anger I knew if he could somehow pry his hands off the safety rail my life would be in danger. But I knew his hands weren't coming off that rail. He was gripping so hard his arms were shaking from the strain of his grip. He managed to spit out between his clinched teeth THIS IS NOT FUN and that is when they took the picture. Me hysterically laughing and my sweet sweet son glaring at me wishing I were dead. And that's how he remained for the rest of the ride. When it finally ended while we were waiting for the bar to release I told him how sorry I was and that I would never push him to do something he didn't want to do again, except homework. He wouldn't look at me at that point, would not even to talk to me. When the bar released he sprang out of that seat and took off. He didn't talk to me for several days.
I really wish I'd bought that picture.
No comments:
Post a Comment