a whole 'nother lap.
except not. and don't look back.
One—seriously just one—night in London, Lisa and Chris went out after the kids went to bed and Evan and I played cribbage. We thought we would play a lot of cribbage on this trip, but life (children) keeps getting in the way.
I was losing pretty badly. And Evan said, “There’s a lot of it left—a whole ‘nother lap.” But I heard, “There’s a lot of life left. A whole ‘nother lap.”
Evan chuckled a bit when I told him what I heard and said…
– That would be awesome if there was a whole second lap of life.
– Totally. Like a do-over. Would you do anything different?
(a dangerous game to play, I know.)
– Uhhh… I don’t know. Yeah, I think I’d go to nursing school a lot sooner.
Evan didn’t ask me—in return—if I would change anything with a whole ‘nother lap at life. I am very aware that I’m currently on my self-mandated sabbatical in Europe that I’ve taken my family on, so I’m not exactly the person you have to tell to, “live a little.” But I am also not a “no regrets” person. I am a woman filled with regrets—usually just the small stuff. Like I’ll regret what I ordered for lunch or what I wore for my wedding. But never regret going out to lunch every day for the last 20 years, even though my bank account wept. And never regret marrying Evan Smith.
If there weren’t a Sliding Doors effect that would change who I ended up with and so many of my friends I met and—most importantly—Marcelline’s existence, here is an abbreviated list of things (big and small) I would’ve done differently or not done at all in my life:
MANY haircuts.
A few jobs.
A couple men.
Where I went to undergraduate school.
(did you know that the University of Mary Hardin-Baylor, a baptist university, STILL TO THIS DAY has homophobic rules in their handbook?? …page 64, under Sexual Misconduct.)
I would’ve started wearing heels sooner in life.
(yes, they’re kind of uncomfortable sometimes, but turns out it’s awesome being tall and I was ashamed of it for far too long. and heels make my long legs look even more spectacular.)
I would’ve tried harder to go to every wedding I was ever invited to.
(when you’re a parent pushing forty, there are just so many less opportunities to tear up a dance floor with your friends.)
I would’ve been nicer to my sister, earlier in life.
(no matter how many therapists tell me my little sister’s addiction issues aren’t my fault, I will always wish I were a nicer child/sibling/human to her.)
But we don’t get a whole ‘nother lap. And I’m not sure if we should even be looking back.
Another lovely thing about England is that Evan’s cousin Jenny lives near Cambridge. We recently went there for a visit and took a drive with her family (husband, 14-year-old son, 12-year-old daughter, and beautiful dogger) up to Brancaster Beach.
I have never seen a tide so low. It was like you knew it went on forever, but it also could have been a cardboard cutout at some point, because it felt so flat and unreal. It felt like looking out at one of the final scenes of The Truman Show.
After everyone had had their beach time and was indulging in a picnic, I told them, “I was going for a swim.”
“It’ll take you an hour to walk to the water!” Evan said.
“It won’t take an hour.”
“It’ll take a while.”
I was determined to swim. So I looked at my watch, noting the time, and started walking to the water. It was surreal—just walking into an unknown. Quickly, I decided how symbolic this was. This walk was this trip. This walk was quitting a dream job. This walk was walking away from it all, towards adventure. And I decided—without a phone, without a camera, without someone next to me—I would not look back. For a full sixteen minutes (which felt like a very long-ass time!) I looked ahead, at the water, and decided to keep going. It was a bit scary. Scarier than I thought it would be. I only looked at the sea, the sky, and the treasures of the sand—the size of the crab shells got bigger and bigger as I neared the water.
When I finally reached the ocean, the water was warmer than I expected. I put my feet in—enjoyed the culmination of my journey—and turned around. My family, my origin, was a tiny dot away from me. I put my dress, hat, and sunglasses on the sand and then dove in to the shallow sea water and felt giddy. I actually laughed out loud a bit. For some reason, this swim felt better than any other swim I could remember.
A Little Woo:
Half Way There, Living On A Prayer: We are halfway through 2023! I can confidently say that my mid-2023 is looking much better than my early-2023 and (I don’t want to jinx it, but) I have high hopes for my late-2023. We just had a powerful new moon in Cancer and I found my Taurus horoscope freakishly right on. And through it all (and beyond) I’m trying to feel without thinking too much.
A Little View:
some photos of late…
Quick Hits:
Jam of the Week: Portugal. The Man - Summer of Luv (feat. Unknown Mortal Orchestra).
(I have—admittedly—not been keeping up with new music, but this new song caught my ear and I love it for summer.)
Musicians & Their Day Jobs.
(one of KEXP’s recent Sound & Visions featured like four of my pieces about how musicians juggle day jobs to fuel their art and wallet. the whole episode is great, so check it out in the archive.)I Can’t Stop Looking Thinking About This Podcast.
(motherhood, infertility, addiction, our “justice” system. oof. I have been completely enthralled the whole time and we’re only on episode three now.)Thank GOODNESS This Dude Won.
(it was such an incredible match and turns out the other guy is an anti-vax, racket-breaking douche who doesn’t think the rules apply to him.)(I stocked up on a tried-and-true favorite… mom, you should be receiving a package or two at our home.)
I’m Obsessed With This Meme.
LOL.
(I know it’s true.)
We’re off to France tomorrow, where it’s a dillion bagrees, because we have completely trashed this earth. (I say as I’m flying there while my toddler wears disposable diapers.) but I’m so excited to travel some more though! Thank you so much for being here.
Good morning! And in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!
xxo,
Rachel.