As a child, there was a lot of things my parents allowed me to do and supplied. I led a blessed childhood full of opportunities, playing, and adventures. As with anything though, there were always some restrictions, may it be money, time, or even just logic. I tried to understand it then when I was so young, and I definitely do now. Money doesn’t grow on trees, time is precious, and no, five year old Brey, we cannot buy you a pony.
As a teenager my focus shifted. My life changed into a race to the finish, which was turning eighteen. School was pushed up, extra curriculars were dropped, college started, the engagement question was popped. My life and plans were a one track mind.
Since entering legal adulthood, it has been one giant juggling act. Time, money, and logic, yet again have fluctuated and sometimes been scarce. With my own money, rules, and judgement I have fulfilled some childhood dreams, kept up old traditions, and looked back at everything a little more fondly. And there are some things that I have missed for a long time, and some things that have just recently left a new hole in my heart.
I miss riding. Horses and riding always captured my interest when growing up. But with insurance, distance, prices, and lack of opportunity, my parents decided to let this dream slip by. It wasn’t until I had been moved out and was living on my own for a year that I decided it was worth spending my own hard earned money to at least try it out. It was hard work, exhilarating, and breathtaking (literally and figuratively). It was worth every penny, until the pennies started to be in short supply. But I miss the ache in my legs, the power beneath me, the thrill of success, and the complete challenge of the whole adventure.
I miss skiing. Luckily, very luckily, this is something I never have to miss for long. This is not up for discussion either. Every year, with my parents, with friends, or now with my husband, I always go skiing. Even if we’re pinching our last penny, I’ll splurge on a day on the slopes every winter. The rush beneath you, the adrenaline at each new obstacle, the demands of each run. There is nothing like it.
I miss dancing. Not long after I dropped my dance classes as a tween, I became infatuated with Drew and never looked back. It wasn’t until a few years into a steady relationship, finishing high school, and becoming chronically ill, did I start to truly miss dancing. I still danced, was a ministry teacher, joined a rudimentary teen company, and created my own choreography throughout my high school years. But it wasn’t the same, it wasn’t challenging or pushing me. I miss taxing my body for a routine, to feel the perfect flow of finally getting the moves down, to be apart of a synchronized, encouraging team.
I miss these things. Deeply, greatly, forlornly.
I hope I won’t miss some of these things forever. But if I do, my memories are happy enough to keep my heart satisfied for now.