We went skating for the second time. It was mostly good, but Jake and Bill blew out leaving Jake with a cut and bruised cheek bone.
Bill says he thinks he broke his back in the fall.ÂÂ
Luckily I didn’t see the incident, but in the thirty seconds it took Bill and Jake to fall and then skate to Beth and I, Jake’s cheek was flaming red and bleeding.
So, Jake sat on my lap in the penalty box and cried a bit and then went back out as agressive as ever. Which made me happy to see, though I’m a little more leery of the skating thing now. Just the wimpy Gen-X mother in me, I suppose.
It’s funny though, before we got to the rink, Jake presented every possible way he might get hurt (it would make an eavesdropper how the kid ever actually got out on the ice) wanting reassurance that there’s no way he’ll get hurt. And I was more than happy to say he’ll never get hurt, because if I’m honest and explore the shady areas of “Well, most likely you’ll never get hurt, but…” then he’d never even get out of the car.
But, as soon as he’s on the ice his eyes lit up and he started running across the ice, he couldn’t go fast enough, pass enough people and joyfully smack me on the butt enough times when he passed Beth and I.
Beth on the other hand has visions of triple axles and triple sow cows while in the car. Then she’s so much more tentative once we’re there. Part of her problem is she can’t forgive me for not letting her wear a skirt and tights while skating and spends half her time watching the figure skating, happy skirt wearing, girls in the center of the rink while we circle it at a snail’s pace.
But about half-way through the session she stoped, made me back away and on both feet, she spun herself around. A triple axel as far as she and I were concerned.
All of this boring family garbage just to say, it makes wonder if this is a reflection of how they’ll approach their lives. Jake, obsessing about all the negatives until in the midst of some project, then he can’t take enough risks, smiling all the way?
Beth, more cautious, but probablly reaching the same heights as Jake in the end?
I think I’m more like Jake, worrying about things until I reach the edge of the mountain and have no choice but to leap and then its fun. But I’m also like Beth with the big dreams, imagining myself doing grand things.ÂÂ
For me, this whole writing thing is a risk.  A quiet little whisper of a risk to most people. No matter what, I’d be compelled to write, that part’s easy. What’s hard, what worries me, is the amount of time I take getting this writing to the point of near publication (and publication in the near future, I say).ÂÂ
I won’t be satisfied with a bunch of binders of unpublished novels in the attic, I know that. So I don’t have a choice but to pursue this. But when I think of my house–it could be neater. My “real career”–I’m getting to the point I might be able to do more (the kids are getting older) How much am I willing to just plow ahead with this writing thing?
I don’t see any choice but to push ahead with it. The only thing standing between me and publication (beyond essays and articles, I mean) is a little luck. I’m doing the work and I do think it’s good. But waiting for the planets to allign, for the moving parts to lock in place. There’s the risk because I can’t make any of that happen. So, I’ll risk it.ÂÂ
How about you. How would you rate your risk taking life?
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Kathie, for the most part, I’m not a risk-taker, I’m a planner. I don’t “wing it” for anything — more like Jake, I guess, thinking everything through, and then thinking it through again. I’m prepared. If you need a flashlight, an adhesive bandage, ibuprofin, or a tampon, I’ve got it for you within arm’s reach. I don’t sky dive or rock climb. An exciting day for me is making it past the neighbor’s dog without being chomped. But all that is in my physical world.
In the writing world, every step involves risk. Every typed word is me on the page, there for people to redline, mock, or demean. Along with that risk, however, comes the reward. When what you’ve written has opened a reader’s eyes, altered her perspective (if even just a little), or resonated somewhere within an unexpecting soul, you feel it. For a writer, it equals a flag-raising ceremony atop Mt. Hood.
Keep on your path, Kathie. You’re almost there. And remember that every paragraph you write, every buttress you scale, is worth the smell of the air at the top.
Good luck!
Thanks Judy, you’re always ready with words of encouragement. I really feel that way–that I’m almost there. It’s very hard for me to let go of the stuff I have no control over, but it’s getting easier to do. So funny how prepared you are, I wouldn’t have any of those things you listed at the ready…unless the person who needed them was standing in my kitchen. And even then it’s a crapshoot.
I see blood frozen in the ice rink ice and that’s enough for me.
I’m a planner too. I’ll take a risk, but not a blind one.
Hey Becky, sorry not to have vitisted your site recently! I’ll be there soon. And I’ve read more poetry…would your husband do an interview?
PS, blood is a big problem for me as well.
Yup, he’ll do an interview, lol.