Living each day much muchier
Not all who wander are lost
“Mum?” I asked. “Do you mind if I become an old spinster?”
My mother laughed.
She said it was okay, but in a way that sounded like she still had hope.
I feel as though I’m letting a female legacy down.
A woman finds a man (or woman) to love. They settle down. They have a child or two and they balance work and life.
It’s something I want but, if I don’t manage it, I’m content to have other adventures.
I actually am. I feel a bit guilty about that. It feels like wagging school or chucking a sickie.
I’m somehow playing truant for refusing to settle into life’s most ancient rhythms.
When I’m dancing or photographing or writing, I feel like the world is mine and it’s enough. When I see family updates on Facebook, I feel like I’m cheating, like I’m living Ferris Bueller’s day off.
I’ve danced and not loved. I’ve loved and not danced.
It feels greedy, asking for both, but is it? Am I asking too much?
I am like my mother. I hope.