Just Like That

My co-deeder and I walk along the Croton Aqueduct Trail in Sleepy Hollow, New York, a primitive, low-stress exercise which we can enjoy together. We go through cycles where she insists walking is good for us and she prods me off the couch, to sometime later, when she’s sick of it. By then the exercise is part of my routine so I nag her to join me on sweat-filled marches until I get sick of them, too. We quit for a while, then she starts the cycle all over again. We’re good for each other that way. 

Like most couples, as we walk we discuss the days recently completed, the days ahead, family and work; and heavier stuff, too, world affairs, our long term plans, life’s challenges and failures. As we reach the top of a hill on the Rockefeller Estate, where the view of the Hudson goes for thirty miles, I ask her, “Taking family out of it, if you could go back to any age and start over, how far back would you go?” After we agree, that all the wisdom she’s gained over the years stays with her, but no specific knowledge, she immediately answers, “All the way back to being a new born.” Her reasoning is that, with a do-over life, she’d try hard to figure out what she really wants then do her best to reach that goal, rather than letting life dictate her path. Her answer and reasoning don’t surprise me, but I’m taken aback by the speed of her response. 

Of course, as is always the case in our random deep-thoughts questioning, she turns the table and asks me the same question, with the same “take family out of it” condition. I sit for quite a while, choosing and then eliminating various eras of my life. Obtaining my degree four years after high school instead of twelve, seems a good choice, but I’d have to go farther back, because I really wasn’t ready for college. High school perhaps? But by two weeks into my freshman year, I’d already felt behind. I start to think early grammar school is probably my best choice, maybe second grade, but I remember struggling, even then, to learn basic tasks like shoe-tying and reading. I suddenly realize that by seven years old I'd already lacked the confidence and self-esteem to live a life differently than how I’ve lived it. I see that lack of confidence has been my greatest problem as long as I can remember. 

I grew up an uncoordinated, dorky looking kid. Going back in time couldn’t change my awkward appearance, but less scholastic struggle and greater knowledge would have made me more confident. I tell her, “Two of three, so I could grab every book I could find and read, or make someone else read to me.”

My co-deeder takes in my rambling response, smiles, and says, “So why not do that now? From this moment forward, have more confidence.” 

“Just like that? Have more confidence?”

She takes her time, looks up the river, and shrugs. “Yeah, just like that.”

“And you? Are you going to blaze a new path instead of living the one you’ve stumbled into?”

She shrugs again. “Yeah.”

And just like that, I am confident that my new writing career will progress; she'll decide what she wants and alter her path accordingly; and, we’ll move to a place where we want to be. We’re good for each other that way.