It’s been about 7 years since I was behind the wheel of a car. 10 years since I drove on a regular basis, and even then I didn’t drive often or long enough to ever get comfortable. Today I got behind the wheel for a driving lesson with my boyfriend, Greg.
I expected to feel anxious and unnatural, like I was fighting my true inner self– which is how I felt at 16, 17 and 18 learning to drive, and how I’ve felt every time I’ve sat in the driver’s seat. I’ve been determined for 10 years to live as a non-driver, convinced that if I never got behind the wheel again I’d be content.
But today I felt fine. Confident. The parking lot loops went so well I took to the open road. Maybe it’s all the biking I’ve been doing, or just that my brain is different now, fully formed and adult. Maybe it’s my personal confidence in myself, or that Greg is incredibly patient and kind to me, and opens my heart in a million ways.
I felt jazzed. Independent. Empowered. In the special way that learning a new skill does to us.
There are buds on the tree outside my window. Greg is making cheeseburgers. I’m happy.