Ten years ago, we moved to England. We had been married for not quite four years. I was only 26 years old, and had no children and no responsibilities other than making sure I had a roof over my head and food to eat. Martin and I spent most of our time doing a whole lot of whatever we wanted to do. I had a flat stomach. Boy, how things have changed!
I took Dylan to his first ever football training session last Thursday. I took him there in my new-to-us Renault Scenic. It's a long chassis vehicle. Basically, a minivan that only seats five. It is totally a mommy car. I've never had one of those before. And though I love it, because we all have so much more space on long drives now, I also hate it. It's like I've finally given up on my youth and have resigned myself to parenthood and impending middle age.
But the kids have tray tables, just like on an airplane. And there is underfloor storage. And I can fit Edith's bike in the back seat!
Getting older really sucks. I know a lot of people are fine with it. But they are only fooling themselves. I don't think about it very often, but when I do I mourn the passing of my youth. Most of the time, I don't feel like I'm getting any older. But when I see how grown up my children are getting, or when I buy a soccer mom Scenic and LOVE it, I realize just how much things have changed in the past ten years. And though I love my life, and especially my children, it makes me sad. Because I don't deal well with change. Never have, never will. And, unfortunately, that's what life is all about.
Autumn always makes me slightly melancholy. Watching another growing cycle come to an end, and seeing mother nature shutting down for a long winter's rest. It always feels like the end of something, even though I know that life is cyclical in nature. It's as much a beginning as it is an end. But the days get shorter, the nights close in, and everything starts to die. And I start to think about ageing, and the inevitable changes that come with it.
I think I need to up my happy pill dosage.
No comments:
Post a Comment