A few weeks back I needed to get a physical photo of Oliver and I, and I needed to get it right away. We don't have tangible paper pictures of ourselves around the house, so I was scrambling. Our China photo album caught my eye - I could take something from there! Okay, so that was six years ago... no matter. We look more or less the same.
I opened the book and was dumbfounded. Who were these people? Good lord... us?
In the middle of the best hike of my life, letting the euphoria wash over me.
Oliver. His humor ever understated, his hand on a monkey butt.
Staying in a Buddhist monastery one night - meditating cheekily.
We were so silly! So exuberant. We were children. The album is full of photos like these; goofy smiles, humorous poses, arms-flung-open excitement. It looks like we didn't have a care in the world. And personally, I didn't. I was having the time of my life, and saw no reason that the rest of my life couldn't continue on in a similar fashion. Maybe not with such extensive travel, but you know. Adventure in your own backyard sort of thing. Life was going to be fun and carefree, because I was fun and carefree. End of story.
I only recently realized how much motherhood has changed me. I was so deeply immersed in the day to day that it took a long time to come up for air and get a good view of my surroundings. Wow. It's as though the very molecules that make me have shifted, have formed new structure thingies (hey man, I've never claimed to be a scientist). Everything is different, and not just because I spend my time in different ways now, I have a child to consider, etc. No, things are just different. My perspective on a thousand situations has changed. I breathe differently. I move differently. I talk differently.
Part of it is a settling into myself. At Cool University, where I work two days a week, I often overhear the conversations of my department's graduate student workers. They're lovely, intelligent people having thoughtful discussions... and every time I hear them I think "that's how I used to talk, isn't it." It's hard to put into words; they seem eager to be known and understood, and to reach out at the same time. I feel more settled, somehow. Some youthful hunger is gone and I don't need anyone to know me. I value friendships and conversation just as much as ever, but it's more about connecting with people I enjoy than learning, experiencing, reaching, etc.
The other part of it is a darkening of the world. I'm more anxious than I used to be. I've got something to lose now. And I mean lose. Things feel so much more serious, and I'm constantly aware of how precarious my happy little life is. I used to roll my eyes at certain situations, or natter on about certain world problems... I think they were just abstract concepts to me, because I never gnashed my teeth the way I do now. There's a twinge in my side, and it won't go away as long as both Nils and misfortune have a place in the world.
All this is not to say I'll never do another goofy pose for a vacation photo. Or that excitement is childish. Or that motherhood alone changes you. I just looked at old photos of myself and realized how differently I used to feel. And how much I had yet to experience.
And still do.
