On The Brink of Something

I feel as though I am on the brink of something. The brink of what, I can't tell you, but I hope it is something good, something rewarding. I could use something rewarding.

Maybe it's the usual excitement of the new school year. As one who longs for routine, the comfort of established daily expectations, I certainly picked the wrong profession. Months of unstructured summers tear me apart, and the despite my constant vigilance, there is too much variation for my liking. I spend more time thinking about what I should do than actually doing it, and the stress builds more than it is relieved. I feel like the only person on the planet who gets stressed out by having too much time off. Maybe it's the promise of finally going back to work.

Maybe it's the culmination of the steps I managed to take during my time off to put myself in a better position in my body. I got glasses, so now I don't have to squint and strain to read or write an email. I started going to the chiropractor, who very nicely, in the most professional wording ever, basically told me I was messed up. Now, she gets to beat me up twice a week for several weeks, then, hopefully, my neck will go back to its intended shape, or at least one can hope. Maybe it's the hope of physical comfort.

Maybe it's the growth of independence. My husband's car needs some work, which will (please to the powers-that-be) finally get fixed this weekend, but for the last several months, we have been car-sharing, and I made it through most of the summer without having my own vehicle. This left me at home, sometimes with boys and sometimes without, for days at a time, dependent on entertainment within walking distance and many, many trips to get samples at Trader Joe's. But somehow, this seemingly unbearable inconvenience was strangely liberating. I figured out how far I could walk with the boys. I got myself a bike and found out how far I can ride. I managed to save a bunch of money by not going out to eat for lunch all of the time, and when I did, I spent my money on local pizza, investing in the community instead of a corporation. I discovered the joy of living where I live instead of longing to be elsewhere. I found freedom in my unintentional confinement. Maybe it's the joy of home.

Maybe it's all about Boy One. This summer, he learned how to ride his own bike, swim alone in the deep end, and play video games. Perhaps the third things doesn't sound that impressive, but going from randomly pushing buttons while staring at the controller to watching the screen and having his thumbs know what to do demonstrates marked improvement in hand-eye coordination and the understanding of cause-and-effect. Plus, video games can teach many of the skills I want him to develop, including persistence, thinking flexibly, and taking responsible risks. Yes, he can also learn this skills on his bike, but he can't ride his bike while I wash the dishes or cook diner. Anyway, I think the point is that he took several significant strides into independence, and he is about to start kindergarten to boot. My little boy is a boy of the first order, and there is no turning back. Maybe it's overflowing pride and hope for his future.

Maybe it's that I'm done with babies. Maybe it's that I am a professional in my field, and for the first time, I see a career path that goes beyond the next nine months of the school year. Maybe it's that my husband is finally going to get the car fixed, and I can take myself to Target without having to ask anyone for a ride. Maybe it's that I upgraded to Windows 10 and my digital life will never be the same. Maybe it is just the joy of writing and sharing my world with others after years of pushing it down inside myself. Maybe it's all of this: all of the changes of a summer and a lifetime rolled up into a neat little package that I can actually see clearly for the first time in years now that have glasses to look through. Maybe it's me. Maybe it's everything.

Whatever it is, I am ready.

Wish me luck.