Jump

I’m the girl dusting the parachute. I plan to a fault. I make lists of my lists. It can be so hard to jump, to let go, to make the big decisions and hope all will go well. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to take a big risk. Since our children were born I find myself trying to play it safe more. Every potential job change or financial decision is weighed against having good health insurance, keeping the kids fed and clothed and my deep desire to home school. Sometimes I look at families who leave it all to start over in a new city or a new country and I envy them. They are the ones jumping out of planes, pursuing their dreams and I’m the one who is stuck in a quagmire of debt and indecision. Some days I want to sell the house, pay off all the debts, pack up one or two suitcases per person and leave the rest. Just go and see what the world has out there. What other possibilities exist. Sometimes I just want to jump. But then baby wakes up, the washer dings and the sink full of dishes demands my attention. I step away from the edge and go back to dusting the parachute.