landslide

i had a breakdown in the middle of a barnes and noble parking lot two months before i graduated from college. i sat in my car, on the phone with my dad telling him about the hundreds of lives i wanted to live and realizing that i only got one.

one.

one life. that's it. one.

my dad calmly told me to chill the f out.

"just pick one," he said. "work hard. do your best. just pick one and, honey, you'll be surprised at all the doors that open for you that you never even saw coming."

in the nearly 9 years since that conversation, there have been doors. doors, and windows, and a few walls i've had to knock down myself to make a new way. a new path that led to new doors with new faces and pain i didn't know to watch out for along the way.

but joy, too. two kids in less than two years who push me to become not just a better mom, but a better human and isn't that what all these doors are supposed to lead to anyway? isn't that the point of everyone's path?

but ... i still want a hundred lives. a hundred chances to start at that point in the parking lot, talking to my dad with my future so very wide open in front of me.

because the older i get, the narrower my view looks ... and that's hard. and humbling. and scary.

but true.

now when i look at the horizon of my life, i still see doors, but i'm less brazen about flinging them open and stepping inside. i'm carrying two passengers along for the ride, and each door i open creates their futures, too. so i'm cautious. calculating. and while those can be very positive traits, they are limiting and less exciting.

remember when literally anything you picked for your major was fine because you had FOUR MORE YEARS to change your mind? i'm the college junior realizing that maybe accounting isn't for me, but i'd rather finish it than start all over again.

and it's fine. it's all fine. i have food on the table and clothes on their backs. i can buy them things like random new bikes and splurge for dinner out once a week.

i'm fine. i'm good, even.

but i'm not extraordinary.

and if i'm honest, i really thought i would be. i'd write that novel -- and it would be so good. i'd find love -- and it, too, would amaze us both. i'd travel. i'd be respected.

i'd rise.

and ... i'm good. i'm fine.

i picked a path. i picked a person. i picked a peck of pickled peppers and ... i just want to be back in that parking lot sometimes.