Pushing the Button

I miss having that unending sense of assuredness that comes with the confidence of youth. Both of my nieces are only just claiming 5 for themselves. Like dogged explorers, flags planted firmly in the lump of mud beneath them, the look of impassioned pride at reaching such a milestone, spreads across their continually changing faces. 

Each time I see them, it helps me capture some of that wonderful naive logic. They enable me to creative such beautiful narratives, where bath water is witches potion and tiny plastic creatures held in grubby hands are friends for life, no questions asked. It's like looking into a guarded vault where the only expectation is that anything is possible. And I find it so refreshing that it is so effortless to assume the steps we walk can take us across continents, through forests, across oceans. It could happen, in just one shuddering heartbeat or click of excited fingers; to them it is totally conceivable. And I envy that certainty, that unfailing belief in the possibility of a life without constraint.

But most of all, the thing I notice with a certain wistfulness is their abandonment of fixture. That lack of care about where, but rather who. It's not about the place you are; the spot you stand but it revolves around oneself and family. The ability to make any place the most exquisite and exciting environment is a gift we seem to grow out of and I realised recently, all I am doing when I see them is witnessing them saying non verbally, that adventure is wherever 'we' are, it is also the very clear message that wonderment is not once in a while, but par for the course, if you just let it be.

I see their beautiful expressions as they leap through life; no need to worry about tomorrow, no sense in considering the future, but that divine ability to be totally present. Right there in the moment they're holding onto. We lose that ability as adults, with our responsibilities, our plans, our money troubles and our attachment to always needing to know what comes next. 

And so, I've decided to take a leaf out of my two eldest nieces' books. I'm shirking off the rat race, stripping off the layers of discontent, ignoring the tendency to know every single eventuality. I'm throwing caution to the wind and I'm saying yes to living for my today, being present, being bold, being certain of the uncertainty that comes along with jacking in my job, selling my house and leaving the UK with my most favourite person, without a scrap of any real training under my belt, without any knowledge of how to ask for Yorkshire Tea in any language or how to survive without said tea if I fail hideously at communicating the desperate need for it. 

I'm clueless for the first time in a long while actually attempting to do the very thing I've dreamt of for so many years. But I'm doing it. And I'm scared about it going terribly, but I'm bloody doing it.

And I hope I continue to hold onto the memories of time with my family, that keep allowing me to remember that anything is possible, all one has to do, is do it.

And so it begins. January 29th, I'm coming for you fast.