That reunion I blogged about a few weeks ago? Didn’t go. Wanted to but the weather complicated things.
All of a sudden, what appeared to be a straight ahead if arduous slam dunk became a logistical rethink based on flood watches along the path to our destination, a road we had literally not travelled before. Having a small car and travelling with my elderly, disabled mother, it seemed our trip would be better made another time. So, we missed yet another reunion.
Of course, I couldn’t leave myself alone about this decision. The flooding on watch didn’t occur until after we would have been nearly back from the reunion. Even though there was no way to know that in advance, I gave myself grief for not leaping and seizing the moment and its adventure. Funny how logic and responsbilty can kill an opportunity.
Certainly not the spirit of adventure imparted to me by my dad when he’d read to me from the Tales of Brer Rabbit. I was 5 and we were still a whole family. It didn’t occur to me until much later in life that I’d made a lot of decisions about who I’d become while listening to Brer Rabbit’s escapades and choices. Dad had no idea who and what he’d created in those cherished storybook times we shared.
I had recognized even back then that the key to the code of survival was that if you couldn’t be meaner and stronger, you’d better be quicker and smarter. It hasn’t always worked out for the best, but then not everyone gets to be at play in the briar patch. So, when your life turns into a briar patch, you’re not as lost as those who’ve never been.
It’s an attitude thing, ya know?