I can’t remember learning how to ride a bike. Not fully at least. I think it all started with my brother being able to do a ba-million more things on his two wheeler than I could do on my 4. I can’t remember if it took me a while of falling and getting back up to learn how to ride, but I imagine that I was significantly brilliant at it. Then again, maybe not.
I think I spent the majority of my life wanting to be better than average at something. Looking at old pictures of myself I was such a tomboy. There’s one picture of me sitting at a picnic table with my brothers. They are tidy, neat little things, while I’m crunching on a giant piece of corn. I’ve managed to get corn flakes all over my face. Hahha… And I’m the only one in the picture wearing a cape. Yep… that was me. I can hear my dad saying, “my little-lady.” And I ask, what lady did he see?
Those old pictures can make a person cry. I firmly believe that parents should not take photographs of their kids until they are made aware of aesthetics! Anyway, what I see now is that when I thought I was above average I was just different, a little extravagant, maybe weird, but mostly loved.
I think finishing school and trying to do something with your life is like trying to ride a bike. Everything is kind of awkward and even though you know the movements your supposed to make the brain signals some how get confounded and you fall. It’s been a month since the actual graduation and I think I’ve fallen my fare share for at least a year. But even so, if it weren’t for family filling in the gaps and showing the nonsensical Crystal in front of them all the love they could, I doubt I would ever get far.
So here’s to family. I welcome and accept the awkward years ahead.
