Edge of new

I’m ordering books and subscribing to expat blogs. I bought a map of Europe at Barnes & Noble last night.

Stop saying if.

We’re going.

We’re doing this. [My mantra.]

Then, randomly, I thought about Grace’s driving test next month. It made me pause. Mourn a little even. Why does the mere thought of driving to school as a senior elicit such a strong fear of missing out? As if I’d actually trade a year in Europe so she could earn the privilege of battling morning traffic to Shaker High School in Latham, NY.

It’s obviously much more than shitty traffic on frigid mornings. It’s the pull of the universal, the shared stories, the common thread. It’s a birth story of sorts. Sports and prom and AP classes and SATs and college visits and parking spots and friends. Will I do harm by denying her these things? Is my glib “we are not sheep damn it” genuine or is it an excuse to drop out, not work so hard, protect ourselves from rejection?

It’s not.

It’s the edge of the new that burns the old. [So sayeth Danielle LaPorte.]

We’re not out to prove anything. We’re simply moving towards what’s next.

Bring it.