Pic of my (brave?) lil' sis jumping off a waterfall into 5ft of water
In my early years of elementary school I learned two things. I would be taught how to mail a letter and how to tell time.Around middle school, I learned that in a few years I would be taught how to drive.
These three lessons stick out in my mind because, for whatever reason, I had this tremulous conviction that I would be terrible at all three things. Nothing real led me to believe this would be the case, but I approached all three tasks with dread, certain I was doomed for failure, wondering if I would be less of a person if I didn't try at all.
Thankfully, I can send mail without trouble. I can tell time. I can also drive reasonably well (and only occasionally get sympathetic stares when parallel parking).
A few months ago, my piano teacher informed me that there would be a recital for all of her students. Surely I was not part of this inclusion, I said to her with my eyes and my face. Not hearing me in this mode of conversation, she told me I could do a duet with the husband AND I could do the left side of the duet so people wouldn't even see me!
I thought this through, and immediately regretted acquiescing to her request.
Today was the recital, and though the husband and I were the only students over the age of fourteen, we did pretty well. Only two pretty negligible mistakes from me and one even less noticeable mistake from the husband.
There has been a lot of change going on in my life these past few months. I have been afraid. I have been anxious. I have wondered how things will possibly turn out okay.
And then they just do. Not always in the way I want. Not nearly as successfully as I hope. But they just do.
