Sometimes the jump is one foot too far to risk the leap, a self-imposed mantra that I have tried hard to avoid most of my life. This morning I awoke with that heart pounding headache thumping feeling that you know means one of two things: you drank too much the night before or two, you were awoken suddenly amidst a dream, the kind of dream where you can still smell the salty Cape air or the New York City sweat upon the alarm sounding, feeling the rush in your legs as if you were running along the beach. Bleep, Bleep, Bleep…alarm goes off and Hello 6:34AM, it’s me again, in the dark.
I have quite a morning ritual every day with my 15 month old son. We hum an old German song that my mom taught him, we play “lights on, lights off”, he climbs into my arms and watches patiently as I make him buckwheat pancakes and pureed blueberries and pomegranates, lovely (chef in the making? his answer is always “uh oh”). Coffee button hits Yes, I add pumpkin spice to remind me of my favorite month that I refuse to let go of (October), and we hit the ground running.
I think sometimes that we all need to learn something from the children. I often forget this when I am so wrapped up in business, I think we all forget. I have a gate blocking the flight of stairs (downward) in our home. After our morning ritual Lucca decided he would do his thing and try to get through the gate. Difference is, this time I had left it open by accident. Unlocked.
There are times in my life when I have thought about making the jump, but have been too afraid of that leap that just seems to crawl up on the back of our necks and scare us into safe home security. There are times when I should have made that jump, times when I wanted so badly to take a risk that I was afraid of. Days when I wanted to run 10 miles and keep going, days when I wanted to stop short and jump into Turtle Pond, nights when we both wanted to drive until the gas ran out. Nights when we wished we had gas. And then, those few nights when we didn’t jump but laid on the lawn, hand in hand, and watched the stars. Maybe that means jumping for a few folks.
Lucca didn’t feel this way. What I walked into was not our son diving head first down the steps but rather, turning around slowly and trying to belly slide it, as we had told him how best to get out of a particularly hairy situation.
Today we learned something from our 15 month old son. Sometimes the jump is never too far to risk the leap, as long as you are willing to slide down on your belly.