There is something about spring that makes me antsy, creates an itch I can't quite scratch. Maybe it's all the Facebook posts from friends about their jaunts around the country to celebrate the passage of gloomier days to those brimming with hope and possibility. Perhaps it is all the amazing memories I have amassed from the trips taken in the Smith Family van to Florida, Tennessee, Georgia and Kentucky.
I was blessed as a child to have the opportunity to travel. My parents always managed to find a way to take a vacation or two every year. Nearly every spring, we packed and loaded the van for the southerly trip that often included excursions to amusement parks to appease my dad's affinity for thrilling roller coasters. Hard to believe he will be 81 tomorrow and no longer has the zest to buckle in and laugh with pure joy from the screaming descent on rails. I have taken my boys just one time to Michigan's Adventure and Sammy was only two at the time.
Every year this time, I have to fight with the overwhelming urge to pack up and take off-destination unknown. I have a history of fleeing and I have yet to outgrow it. It is with this urgency that I face a weekend all by myself for the first time in years next week. I have been planning itineraries in my head, wishing I had the means to make a small dream into a reality. It is not lofty dreams. I am not contemplating a flight to Tuscany to drink in the wine and views. I have considered staying somewhere along the lake shore. I have lamented no longer being able to visit Grandpa Casler in his little house and watch thunderstorms roll in over the lake. Maybe a drive over "The Bridge" and visit my old stomping grounds. I know I need to do it alone, get comfortable with me.
I just know that like every breathing person on this planet, my future is uncertain but right now it is terrifying and I feel on the precipice of failure. I have been calculating expenses in my head and trying to figure out how to provide everything for my children and still have room for much needed fun. I long to feel joy in my heart and know that we are going to be just fine. I desire the contentment of restful sleep, hitting the pillow knowing I have done a good job. It's frustrating that everything comes down to a bank account. I don't mean a padded account either. I simply want the assurance of knowing the lights will remain on, there will be a roof overhead, food on the table and shoes on our feet.
Gratification for me does not come from self enjoyment but in knowing that I am able to make a positive difference. It is the smile on a person's face that gives me joy. I still want to know what it is I want to be when I grow up. At the very least I know I want to be involved with something life changing, something that would make God proud.
