Adventure

I've spent my first 30 years being an over planner.  

A slightly less vocal Nervous Nelly.  A trip to hike through a park to wade in knee deep rivers required hours of packing.  

Sunscreen?  Check.  Extra clothes?  Check.  Lunch?  Water?  Bug spray and shoes?  Check, check, check.  

In my mind, preparation equaled a good day.

But lately, I feel a change deep inside that is edging me to reinvent my type A ways.  I hear a far off voice crying for adventure and realize it's my voice calling.

I want to watch the sun set and maybe even get up in time to see it make it's daily debut above the horizon line.

I want dirt in my shoes and snarls in my hair.  Tangible evidence of a day well lived.

I'm dreaming of long drives to explore new caves and paths, to see the backside of a waterfall.  The thought of camping in a tent, in the woods, without my beloved fan to lull me to sleep isn't sounding half bad anymore.

I always thought I'd be increasingly more cautious after becoming a mom.

Surely growing older would make me see how fragile life is, the need to protect my young.  But I'm learning that it isn't one or the other.  I can teach them to be careful while teaching them to be fearless, to grab life by the horns and squeeze every tiny adventure out of it that they can.  I can cradle them close and kiss dirt covered cheeks just as easily as clean ones.

Yup.  I feel a deep change stirring.

And while I'm sure I'll still pack sunscreen, water, and extra bug spray, it will become second nature.  Bags set by the door, anticipating our next adventure.

We will live our days and live them well.