This morning, I did not do asana; I did dread.

The Cop has an affinity for cars, trucks, motorcycles — basically anything that you can put in the garage and tinker with and swear at. This morning, he mentioned that he was going to pick up a new motorcycle on the other side of the valley. When I asked about whether he’d transport it in his truck, he indicated that he would, though it was going to be quite a project getting a 750 (i.e., a big ass bike) out of the back of his truck once he got it home.

Upon further questioning, it became apparent to me that he was NOT going to ask anyone for help, but was going to be stubborn and self-sufficient, and probably injured, getting the big ass bike out of the back of the big ass truck.

The other alternative was for me to go with him in the truck to get the bike, and then for him to ride it home. He was reluctant to suggest that option, because he didn’t want me to miss led class.

When I first knew The Cop, he had a bike. It is immensely sexy — the helmet, the jacket, the gloves, the whole thing. It is also dangerous. *Sigh*

I skipped led class and we drove across the valley to get the bike. On the way back, I drove behind him. It is worth noting that I avoid driving behind motorcyclists as a matter of course, because I don’t want to see if anything awful happens.

But there I was, driving behind The Cop on his new FAST! BIG! bike. Suddenly I started flashing on when I would take My Gift to jumping lessons. Yes, as in jumping on a horse. She loved the biggest, crankiest horse at the stable, and she was one of the few people he would allow to ride him. Of course, he still had his moments. I remember him trying to dislodge her from the saddle by sideswiping the fence, and by brushing up against trees at a gallop. Sometimes he’d just stop suddenly and put his head down. As I’d watch My Gift fly through the air and then crash in the ring, I would hold my breath and look to see if she was breathing, then I’d wait to see if she could move. Luckily, she was always okay. Well, except for sprains and cuts and bruises and such.

My mom was appalled that I allowed My Gift to ride. Actually, I didn’t just allow it: I paid for it (ouch!) and arranged my schedule to take her to lessons and to shows. I enabled it. Why? Because she needs to explore the world. Even if it might be dangerous.

The Cop’s mom was appalled when I cheerfully greeted his decision to go to the Police Academy. I mean, he’s an adult, so I couldn’t have prevented it, even if I’d wanted to. But I didn’t want to. He is so cut out to be a cop. Even if it might be dangerous.

Me? Well, I like to think of myself as the rock, the reasonable person who keeps everything stable and who enables the explorations of others. But I did recall this morning, as I drove behind The Cop, many days of standing on top of high cliffs. Which I’d climbed. What was I thinking? I guess that I needed to explore the world.

Today’s exploration brought me to a spa where a technician colored in my eyebrows. Yeah, I plucked ’em so much for so many years that now I need to have them colored back in. I like this particular technician, because she calls it a “tattoo.” Other people I’ve gone to have been horrified when I called it that, and reprimanded me and told me it was “permanent make-up.” Uh, okay.

I was looking through her book before the appointment and saw pictures of permanent eyeliner. Hmmm. That’s kind of cool, I thought, I wonder what that’s like? Well, I’m here to tell you, it is freaking WEIRD. The technician kind of turns your eyelids inside out (you know how kids — or perhaps people’s husbands — do) and then draws on the edge of your eye with the tattoo needle.

“It’s okay to breathe,” she said to me, when she stopped for a moment.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I replied.

It was over pretty quickly, but damn, it felt weird. Not pain so much as… I don’t know. I guess it’s just something you’ve probably never felt the likes of in your life.

Why do I feel a sense of dread when the people I love do something new/dangerous, but don’t feel it for myself? Maybe it’s just more internalized. If I have eyelid tattoo nightmares tonight, I’ll figure I’m on to something…


4 Responses

  1. have you read “the blue place” the first of three books by nicola griffith featuring her lead character aud torvingon? nicola describes what she calls the blue place, that place when adrenaline creates a crystal-clear world, where every atom in existence shines with purpose, perfectly. i get the feeling you’d relate.

  2. Oh my, that sounds like climbing! I’ll check it out. Is it as good as Harry Potter? πŸ˜‰

  3. I know what you mean. I worry much more about something happening to my daughter when she’s out mountain climbing (she’s had some scary close calls) than I ever have about myself.

  4. oh, it’s better than harry potter πŸ˜€

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