Sometimes I think about things I did "in a previous life" -- before kids, before being married, while in school -- and I can't believe I did them. Some things I reject because I'd like to think I wasn't that naive or stupid. Some things I have trouble believing because it's hard to think that I was able to tough my way through, like biking three miles back and forth to school for two years, in all weather except falling snow -- and carrying my bike up to that third-floor walk-up apartment, once I got home.
It was just something I did, how I lived, but it's approaching almost mythic status, some kind of story I tell myself about my past. But it's not just a story, it's real. I wonder if a day will come when I stop believing it myself.
(Inspired by Nina.)
1 comment:
Joan, thank you for this post.
You know, of course, that there is life before kids, then there are the kids and then there is the reinvention of life as they reach adulthood.
My family gave me a bike for my 40th birthday. It was Italian and they said -- this is because we can't afford to send you to Italy. I was thrilled with it. I rode it...twice.
Now, I am just a few weeks short of 55 and have time to attend to biking.
But oh, do I miss my kids!
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