Nothing makes you feel older than good old-fashioned trauma. I feel like I've aged five years in the past few days. Its been a terribly, terribly rough handful of days around here. Nothing makes you look older like frequent crying, either.
I want to do what I'm doing, and I'm grateful for all I have. I love my children and husband fiercely, and we do have a lot of fun. I am doing the absolute best I can, and I don't think my energies can be wasted by pouring them into raising a healthy, strong family. But there are so many joys that used to populate my life that are no longer accessible, and that is hard. I miss working at The King's English and having stimulating, hilarious conversations with my co-bibliophiles, going home arms full of books. I miss sleeping on a ship, and sitting alone on the fourth deck to watch the ocean and its mercurial moods for hours. I miss watching movies with my best friend, and actually being able to stay up late. I miss Harry Potter parties at The Read Leaf. I miss working late nights at SMA, listening to the strange sounds echo off the walls, and to Vern's art theories. I miss losing track of time in the Harold B Lee Library, writing a thesis I loved. I miss driving my convertible around Utah Lake.
There are good times ahead, I know. And this current burden is making me better. I feel my powers of empathy deepening with these new life experiences. Being able to deeply feel for others more than myself is critical to becoming an open-minded and kind person. I also feel tapped into some universal motherhood powers, as old as the earth, and it gives me great strength.
But really, all this would be better if I had a trip to Europe on the horizon. I have several itineraries in mind that would satisfy.