Health Activist Choice! Write about what you want today….
Last night Dale and I saw the movie, Salmon Fishing in the Yemen. It’s a story of overcoming unbelievable odds, of making the “impossible, possible.” It was cute, but I found myself rolling my eyes periodically. While my husband teared up at the end, I scoffed “yeah right” at the screen in my most sarcastic voice.
On the drive home I wondered why…why am I such a pessimist? Why can’t I get swept up in the romance of an unlikely outcome? This was a movie after all….a time to let go and escape, right?
I kept thinking about the movie on my run the next morning and realized it bothered me because it was about taking a leap of faith. As I ran I began to ask myself this question: When was the last time I took a leap of faith? I ran for 40 minutes and never came up with an answer.
My life as a 41 year old mom with type 1 diabetes is practical and scheduled. I wake up every morning at the same time, I go for a 3 mile run on the same route, I eat the same breakfast, I pack my kids the same lunches, I do the same laundry and make the same beds day after day after day. Routines make my life as a mom with diabetes easier to manage, but the movie got me thinking. Where is my salmon fishing in the yemen? Where is my big, dreamy, unpractical idea? What am I missing out on?
The other week my kids and I were driving home from dinner at my parents. As we drove over the Stono River, the sun melted into the water and I slowed down to point out the beauty to the boys in the backseat. It was a beautiful spring evening and with the windows down, the warm air blew the smell of the marsh through the car. “Let’s keep driving,” I said to the boys. “What, why?” they rumbled from the back seat. “Wouldn’t it be great to keep driving?” I said. “We could go all the way to Beaufort.” I imagined our van traveling through the darkness, checking into a bed and breakfast and waking up in the morning in a new place. “No, I wanna go home and see Dad,” Miles said. “Dad can come too,” I said but the boys shook their heads. I sighed and flipped the blinker, turning toward home. Of course we would go home, it was only a silly idea. I reassured them. I turned reluctantly. I drove slowly. I started at the view in the rear view mirror.