There ought to be a different word than anxious about the crazy discomfort of wonderful, desired new things. That feeling just before you finish your driving test, and you know you passed, you’ll have that license and you’ll be free to go where you want, when you want and yet…And yet, it’s kind of nice to relax in the passenger seat, not have to watch for traffic, other drivers, approaching weather conditions, that looney insisting on texting while driving on the freeway ahead of me, now beside me, now speeding to catch a slot to exit, but wait, no. Not exiting, simply charging along, texting.

Could I just have a chauffeur? A professional driver to take me on errands on my schedule? Is that too much to ask? Actually, yes. And expensive. Cabs are not cheap either plus you have wait for them.

Already had all that drama about driving, years ago. And survived. But at different junctures of life, new stuff emerges. New pathways into foreign unknowns. Heavy sigh. And still, no really good descriptor of that uggy, excited, wonderful, scary awareness of new levels in life.

I did use my handy-dandy on-line thesaurus (spell checker is not always helpful. Took me several letters erased, repeated, erased to get anything close of correct on how to spell thesaurus) and it had suggestions. None of which I liked.

As a kid, I loved the excitement of Christmas morning, but I really loved the warm quiet of settling in with that long-wanted-new-smell book, surrounded by new clothes and other stuff I’ve long forgotten but so enjoyed then. The hustle, hustle was over and quiet appreciation covered everyone.

Quiet. Peace. Awareness and time to savor. That part I still love. And new routines usually work into good methods. Even as I write about how my insides wriggle and twist at new levels of life, I know the after time will slip in and it will be good. Writing about it works for me. And honestly, holds the anxiety at bay.

So new stuff on the horizon, I salute you. Welcome you. Anticipate the freshness you carry and look forward to a long and worthy partnership. It will be Good. After I stuff that last remaining fretting quiver back down in the back of the cabinet. Under the stairs. In the basement.

 

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