Seven days ago I bought a plane ticket and my life has been complete chaos since. In the midst of all the chaos that often comes from leaving only seven days to plan a trip to Africa, I almost forgot….I’m going to be on a different continent in a week.
Sitting here at Gate A14 it’s all beginning to sink in, and oddly, all this thinking has lead me to linger on not on the adventure ahead of me, but on the somewhat distant past. Before diving in though, let me give you a brief overview of Diana Price circa 1996.
At seven years old I was interesting at best. Many parents like to use the word “special” to mask the fact that there’s an overwhelming chance their kid might turn out to be a complete freak. Fortunately in a family of five children, one potentially bad egg didn’t threaten the bunch enough to raise any serious concerns about my future.
In a nutshell, I was awkward. I had a hair cut that could have been improved with a weed-whacker (most likely based upon the fact that I treated myself to frequent trims with a pair of “Crayola kid-safe” scissors) and I spent most afternoons outside in my brother’s hand-me-downs which made me easily confused for a boy at any distance greater than three feet. Things went even further downhill the day my sisters bought me the most exciting birthday gift I have received to this day; a bug catcher and holding jar.
Wandering around in the woods for entire afternoons to collect bugs, toads, wounded birds, basically any creature that could become an inhabitant of the aquarium I had recently stolen out of the neighbor’s trash (red flag #15: seven year old dumpster diving). At this point my family had begun to accept the fact that I would eventually be Jane Goodall’s apprentice, living alone in the jungle as the next chimp whisperer freak. With two beautiful daughters already excelling in their piano and dance lessons, it was only fair that the third would become the dikey black sheep.
Sometimes on these afternoon expeditions I would lay in the field behind my house waiting for my next specimen and watching planes fly over me. Each time one would pass I couldn’t help but wonder where it was going and immediately wish I was on it too. I dreamed of growing up and having adventures that would take me to places bigger than the woods behind my house and at that time, there was nothing I wanted more. Moral of this story that I strung out far longer than necessary due to boredom: Through all the questionable behavior and awkwardness, not only did I turn out all right, but in the end, it all seemed to give me a little direction. Who knew?
As I sit here waiting to board my plane I realize... I’m here.
Sometimes I become so obsessed….We all become so obsessed with the next big thing, getting to that greener grass, and constantly looking forward to tomorrow to remember that there was once a point in our lives when the things we wanted most are the things we have right now.
How could I get so disenchanted by all of life’s imperfections that I don’t even realize that I’m living out the dreams of my childhood?
I don’t know, but this is kick ass. Lets get this adventure started.
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