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1:04 p.m. - 2012-03-02
Go! Stay! Go! Stay!

I was just discussing this with a friend and realized I have several thoughts about it.

Mick's uncle, not my fave guy but this is irrelevant to the subject, recently bought another Harley. (The man likes his toys to go vrooom!) The seller lives in Kentucky and Frank lives in southern California. Rather than wait for the bike to be shipped Frank hopped a plane, picked up the bike in person and drove it home. As usual most of the family went insane with panic and worry. If Mick and his mother had their way no one would ever leave their homes. Okay a slight (very slight) exaggeration, but truly their fear of 'out there' is gigantic. Accidents! Robbers! People doing weird stuff! It's so much better and safer if everyone just stays home. All the time.

Pointing out that MIL has broken her foot three times in the last five years in her own yard or that the worst injury Mick's sustained since we met was him slicing his thumb to the bone opening a can of tuna, it does no good. The world will always be a scary, unsafe, horrible place and any adventures beyond the borders of the homestead smack of immediate and dire dangers and pitfalls.

I know it's their own fear of loss, the pain of thinking something might happen to those they love that's driving their mania to keep everyone in a tiny box, but watching the National Geographic channel is never going to be as good as actually going and doing in far flung places. Never.

Jon went to South America, jaunted around for 3 months, learned Spanish, saw amazing stuff, met some really cool people, and is now home none the worse for wear but greatly expanded of mind and experience. And guess what? The week he got home he caught the flu. So you tell me the lesson here.

Ditto for Frank. It's not like the man went completely off his chump. He's an experienced rider. He and a pack of buddies ride to Sturgis every year and so far the worst thing that's happened is one guy came back sporting an unfortunate tattoo. Driving a Harley from Kentucky to La Jolla wasn't an act of madness, it was fun. Besides, this is the real kicker for me...Frank is 75. If not now then when? Would a trip like this be easier when he's 80? Should he wait until he's dead? Should he have not gone at all and had the bike shipped and then locked it in the garage and maybe wheel it out into the driveway on sunny days to take pictures of it? What the hell good is a Harley if you don't ride it?

If I sound a little cranky it's only that my own wanderlust is roaring back out fiercer than ever. I've made one dream finally come true with the house and it's time for the next. My wish list has always been pretty short. Be loved. Got that. Have kids. Got two. Have my own place. Nailing that down as we speak. And to travel.

I needed a secure place to come home to, I think. Now that it's within my grasp what's tugging at me is to get gone. To go and do and see and then come home to my nice little house and be glad of its comfort. To hang photos of my travels on the walls. Put the rocks and the seashells and the silly souvenir snow globes on the shelves in front of the books. To futz around in the gardens and talk to my trees until it's time for the next adventure. The balance I spoke of in my last entry isn't just about emotional equalibrium, it's about a life finally in balance. Too many empty unhappy years when nothing went my way, I suddenly feel awake and alive and hopeful. That it's possible to really get what I want. All of it.

I keep totting up the good stuff and being wowed that it's actually mine. My kids are okay, I didn't fuck them up too badly. I know what it's like to love someone who truly loves me back and it's wonderful. That for once hard work, sacrifice, and duking it out came to the good. The props weren't kicked out from under me this time.

It's funny and sad, for Mick the danger is 'out there' and I know, good lord do I know, that the really shitty stuff happens at home, the biggest hurts are dealt by the ones closest to you. Man, I'll risk pirates and banditos and exotic diseases, ain't nothing out there that'll do me worse than what I got dished at my own kitchen table all those years.

Look, I know I can't hop a Greyhound tonight and get into the wind. But that time is coming. Wolf is growing so, so fast. My relationship with Mick just keeps getting better, solid and honest and fun. There's real progress in every area of my life and there's no one to sabotage it and fuck it up anymore.

I hope I never lose this feeling of gratitude and wonderment. That I never take it for granted when things go well. I don't think so. The road to this place was too bitter and hard for me to ever forget and become some jerk who's sniffy and casual about happiness. Doesn't stop me from wanting more though. I want a checkmark next to every damn thing on that list.

There. I dared to say it.

Can I get a "You go, girl!"? ~LA

8 Wanna talk about it!

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