Travelling home, after spending a few days with my son Callum and daughter Sophie, lots of thoughts flit through my mind:
We fear we might fail, but perhaps failure isn’t always as bad as it sounds.
We might not be the people others have told us we are. Should we rewrite those old stories?
I like who I am. Even though I’ve got wrinkly elbows.
Should we stay true to who we are? Stick to what is comfortable, what suits us best. But what if we’re standing on the sidelines, missing out on something that could be good?
Our best life isn’t behind us but is still to come. If that’s true, then ageing isn’t something to worry about. And wrinkly elbows are nothing to be ashamed of.
We’re parents for life. Our role might change, but we can never say: ‘I’ve reached the end. Pat on the back. Job well done. No more to do. Time to move on.’
Do I need social media? Should I push myself to go where I don’t feel comfortable? Am I standing on the sidelines missing out? Or is Cal Newport right?
Ideas are delicious.
I have lots of skills.
Possibilities are exciting.
What will I do in the weeks ahead?
Every now and then, as trees and towns and paddocks of cows rush past the car window, I make a note on my phone. Later, will my ramblings make some kind of sense? Will I have ideas to share, thoughts to write about, stories to tell, things to create?
The hours pass. I stop writing notes. We turn onto a familiar road.
And I think:
Goodbyes are heart-wrenching, but I love coming home.
Photos: My husband Andy and daughters, Sophie and Gemma-Rose, are walking single-file through the indigenous section of the Tamworth botanic gardens, enjoying the glorious sunshine on an autumn holiday afternoon.
