As a girl I would sit in the back seat of the car watching the world whizz by. I'd catch my reflection in the window and gaze at it intently. As I stared at myself suddenly I would be struck with a strange feeling I couldn't articulate. LOOK at that girl with green eyes and red hair. She's me. I'm her. How funny. How fabulous. How interesting. How very curious. I wondered why I was ME.
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| Me as a girl. I was cute. |
WHY was I Vanessa, sitting in my parents car, weaving along suburban streets in Sydney? There's millions of people in the world. Why aren't I one of them? I'm me. Not someone else. Inside this body. Experiencing this life.
The question came and went swiftly. It was too complex for my young psyche. After all, I was the kind of kid who never questioned the fanciful plots of Enid Blyton novels. Sometimes the thought was so odd I would begin to giggle. I couldn't really process or define what I was thinking and feeling.
I still can't exactly.
Mark Twain says this:
“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.”Mark Twain
It's as good an answer as any.
The thing is, I still don't know why I'm me. I'm glad I am (mostly), but I don't know if there was one specific purpose I was put on earth for.
It sometimes seems that trying to pinpoint certain whys in life isn't always beneficial. At least it isn't for me. I've never figured out exactly what it is I want to do or be when I grow up. And yes, I know. I AM grown up. That's my point. My life is more than half over (unless I live to be well over a hundred), and I still don't have the answers to a million whys. Or one important why.
I could say that I was born to be a daughter, sister, wife and mother. I'm grateful to be those things. Definitely. But I'm also just me. I'm not even the best at being those things, I just bumble along and hope for the best.
Maybe that other most important day of my life is yet to come. Maybe I will understand why one of these days. More likely I will just keep on stumbling along trying to be a better me than I was yesterday. Sometimes succeeding, sometimes not.
And when I catch my reflection and see the middle aged woman who has replaced the little girl I will smile instead of sighing in dismay. I don't always have to know why. I just need to get on with it and be grateful.
What about you?
Do you find it helpful to question why?
