Forgive me if I sound boring.
That’s the first thing I could think of right now as I begin this post with its central theme of adventure.
To be honest with you it’s as though I have writer’s block on this particular subject because, quite honestly, I wasn’t sure where to begin. This may come as a surprise to those who aren’t always able to read between the lines, particularly when writers such as myself have a ball being as cryptic as they can with their words and only gently alluding to real life circumstances.
To emphasize my dilemma, I felt compelled to let you know that I’m nearing the age of fifty. So, those of you who have been following my blog since day one can pretty much work out more or less how old I may have been when I got married. I consider myself quite fortunate because I did not have to wait too long for the right prince to arrive so soon after my hurtful breakup I mentioned in an earlier post. But perhaps I should roll back the years a bit. Women who have been blessed with a full life should have some adventures to share with others that date back all the way to childhood.
I can’t remember too much from my earliest years other than me and my father burying not one but several dogs in our back yard. So, I’m going to begin my story around the time I left high school. I’ll see if I can bring it all the way up to the present day. Then, perhaps, you can decide whether my life has been an adventure and a half. Short and sweet, I decided very quickly that I no longer wanted to be a photojournalist or newspaper reporter. Still at school, I decided to try my luck out for real.
I can’t say whether this was fortuitous or unfortunate but it helped to make my decision then and there. Grabbing my camera that my father had given me for my last birthday, my notebook, pen and handbag, I headed off to town. A labor protest was unraveling in the city and against the city. It was for all the usual reasons in regard to better working conditions and higher wages. But as the city’s cops lined and barricaded strategic points of the city’s streets, looking more militant and imposing, the crowd became more restless.
Inevitably, teargas was fired into the air after the crowd ignored warnings to disperse, and then all hell broke loose. I simply did not have the stomach for this sort of thing, so off I scampered into the nearest mall and then made my way home safely. The next adventure I can think of was a fleeting visit to the heart of Paris as part of a student exchange group initiative. It was an exploratory mission but came to naught and our small group left for home after just two nights in Paris.
I was studying French as part of my degree program, having a desire to explore my own Francophile roots. I loved the nuances of the language and the eccentric and sometimes erratic behavior of the local French. But unfortunately, our whole itinerary fell apart and we had to leave as soon as possible. But in the meantime, with my bag not even unpacked, I decided to do my utmost to explore the city as quickly as possible and take in as much of the sights as I could.
Feeling dejected in my airplane seat, I decided that this was not the ideal way to explore a famous city, particularly since it is, after all, one of the largest cities on earth. I vowed to return one day, but, nearly thirty years later, so far, have not made it back yet. After a quick and busy beginning to my career, one or two failed relationships, followed by the best courtship any girl could ever dream of having, I settled down into marriage. It was a personal choice for the newly-wed couple to put everything into the new marriage.
Speaking of which, our wedding reception was an adventure. It was held high up the mountain in a holiday resort and we spent our first night as a married couple there, surrounded by the cold, dark night, and the protective embrace of the tall, ancient fir trees. Not entirely a nature lover, I couldn’t wait to leave the forest and get back to urban city life. But from day one, my husband, ever prudent with the way he handled our finances, decided that we should settle for something more affordable and practical outside of the city.
And so our house hunting adventure began. The many neighborhoods we visited and the many dreams we shared caused me to have many sleepless nights. I couldn’t contain my excitement or my impatience to finally settle down into our dream home. By the time we did it was joy at last and our banks wasted no time in approving our mortgage applications. They could tell that here was a responsible couple destined to achieve great things together.
I have to point out that; really, it is my husband who makes most of the financial decisions for us. Having followed the good example set by his own parents, he was quite good at that. Which is also why we were able to pay off our mortgage in next to no time. Could we celebrate and wrest on our laurels? Not on your life, according to my husband, there was still much else to do. By that time we had already had our first child. The second one was unplanned and a real surprise for us so late in my life.
Both pregnancies for a woman in her forties were quite the adventure. But, fortunately, I was always in good health and my big-boned physique helped me deliver two perfectly healthy babies.