It may not sound like an adventure for most, but for me, it is as much of one as my summer in Swaziland over twenty years ago. This time, I’m just going to Raleigh, a hop, skip and a jump from here, as my mom says. Staying at a fancy hotel with her and a friend and speaking at St. Michael’s on Saturday morning.
It is a dream come true, though not a dream I even knew I had. I have always tried to not talk too much and so, this is quite new. I have spent the last two weeks thinking and writing as I juggle sick children and a PTA fundraiser. I have spent hours writing, putting a pen to paper, and it felt great. You see, my stories I share with you are typed on my phone, early morning, at the bus stop, any quiet moment. This intentional pouring of the ink has been brand new after quite a very long time and the words that flow are quite different and encompass more of the backdrop to the daily citing of wonder.
An adventure should be fun, nerve wracking, looked forward to and truthfully, I am well prepared for me. I haven’t thrown so much of myself into such a task since the days of nursing a six week old as I desperately tried to finish my thesis. This adventure is real life, a chance to meet women that have supported me from afar, a chance to give my backstory on joy, and a chance to talk about making it work in a very real world. It’s funny too, because I am a natural smartass.
Now, I shall miss my Amos and I worry that he will miss me. He snuggled up last night against my shoulder and fell asleep smiling at me and I told him my plans, but he will wonder where I am. My husband is going hog hunting (that’s it’s own story.) My oldest has fun plans with his cousin, my middle two have a long birthday play date and we have one of our favorite sitters in charge, a lovely girl whose mother’s baby shower I attended so many years ago. I never dreamed that my tapestry was being woven, even then and so, I’m off.