My life is rather like driving a car. I’m flying down the highway in an auto when I should be taking the back road with my window open, sniffin’ the fresh air, coasting in third.
In my formative years, I always had a tendency to sit and stare out the window-my mind drifted very easily into rest mode.
However as a grown up person, with grown up stuff to accomplish, I am void of this free time as a direct result of the poor recognition that I actually need it.
It’s a repetitive behaviour I knowingly engage in because I am convinced I can handle life without ‘space’-a terrible fallacy.
My husband always says I only have two speeds. Fast and stop-and when I stop, I stop. But there does exist in me a third speed-I know it. If I close my eyes, I can almost touch it. A speed I’d call my
‘staring out of the window speed’
It’s not stop, it’s not fast, it’s my kind of ‘catch my breath’ and chill kind of gear. I used to cruise in this ‘fun’ gear all the time, but then someone traded me in for an auto model, and I’m now stuck with two speeds.
My plan for next week is to sell the automatic car in my head, buy a manual, chug along a wonky dirt road for a few hours IN THIRD GEAR, open the windows, let my dog slobber all over them with his ridiculous toothy smile, play a few tunes, sip some juice, have some home made ham, cheese and tomato sambos-with a little salt, suck the perfect blue sky into my starving lungs, laugh at all the funnies cracked on the cheesy radio breakfast shows, and find my lost smile.