A sister-in-law: “Have you read Wild by Cheryl Strayed? I think of you as I read it, because of your adventurous spirit.”
Me: “No, but I am thrilled that you think I have an adventurous spirit. Wonder if I agree.”
A sister-in-law: “Are you kidding?”
Adventurous? Moi? I wish! I do like to try new things but I generally fall short of earning the honor of that adjective.
I can be a big chicken, but that’s not what prevents me. It’s my tendency to dwell in the past and on the future. I know I’m not the only one with this problem. It afflicts most adults of our species.
Adventure can only be had right now, in the present. Kids are good at living in the present tense. So are critters. It’s a skill I’m trying to re-acquire.
When you first learn to walk, every moment is an adventure:
A few years later, adventure is as close as your next idea, such as this tandem go-cart constructed of cardboard boxes, plywood, and skateboard wheels:
Red and Luna would head out each morning to patrol the yard and explore anything that might be new since yesterday.
And of course, when you’re a dog, like Shadow, adventure is always in the air – especially through a car window:
Shadow and I go for walks twice a day. I vary the route but we’ve lived here for years. No matter which way we go, we’ve done it before. Many times. Yet, each time we step out the door, Shadow’s enthusiasm is as fresh as ever, and she’s always in a hurry to get going. It’s not that she needs to go – she’s got a backyard, she’s not cooped up inside. She’s eager because you just never know what might happen next.
That’s the attitude I aspire to. Except without the affinity for cat poop.
Nica, the main character of my latest novel, is completely comfortable with adventure. I’ve never written another character that I want so much to be like!