My kids are 13 and 12, discovering the world, and themselves.
Their 38-year-old mother is discovering the world, and herself.
Sometimes, I think the clock stopped when I was 24. Books stopped. Movies stopped. Music stopped. Opinions – well they could not possibly stop, but they were less expressed.
I wrote. I dreamt. I read.
But everything I wrote was to serve other masters. To sell homes, holidays, happiness.
I dreamt about packing lunches, bus stops, report cards. I did. I woke up in the morning relieved that those were just dreams.
I read but everything I read just filled my head and made it spin and took me far away and brought me right back.
Make no mistake, it was a fulfilling life in itself.
Then suddenly my children were older and did not need my hands, my lap, my thoughts every minute.
I find my feet again. I invest in friendships again, and give more time to those I already have. I walk my city and explore: it’s like being out in the sun again after a long winter. I read to develop my opinions, and learn to talk about non-parenting issues.
I’m more than ready to leave my children’s protective embrace.
I discover time has not really stopped at 24. I feel less passionately about some things and more passionately about others. I’m wiser and more confident, and yet, sometimes I feel like it’s all new and different.
How would I have grown, if at 24 I had not become a mother? Would I have grown differently?