Speed Limit

I wanted to write an email but I did not know who to send it to. So, I decided to just write it and post it on my blog and that way whoever is interested can read it and whoever is not would be spared having to delete one more correspondence from me.

Jeff arrives today - he has been in California since Monday. And while I did not drive him to the airport it looks like I will be picking him up - much to the detriment of my Mother, if she knows. Why so? Well, simply because this means I am going to be driving Route 66 at 12:33 am to be where he is and take him home. I must admit it is a scary prospect, but now I have no choice - he just cancelled his scheduled cab so I am his only ride.

Being married to Jeff has certainly been a growing experience for me - a growing and sometimes a conflict-generating experience; internal conflict-generating, that is. Let me explain:

Take for example this drive that I am going to make tonight. For years and years I had been cautioned against driving at night. My driving curfew was set at 10:00 pm in Beirut (and while I sometimes broke that curfew, most of the times I was expected to be home by then). I was not to take the car out after dark but if I was already out before the sun set I was expected to park by the assigned time.

I was not to drive in the rain - and certainly not in rain storms. And while lately Jeff has advised me to stay "high and dry" with the rain storms here, it is generally accepted, and even expected, that I can handle any climate situation. Why I even drove in the snow once, no pains were made about that. Rather, I was commended for that.

Speed limit was set at 50 - kilometers per hour, that is. And now the slowest I drive is 35 miles an hour. Why if Mom or Dad were to ride with me they would be frantic about how fast I am going. "Drive Slow" has always been - and still is - my Mom's every advice when I tell her I am driving somewhere. But how do I explain? Going slow on the highway is by far more dangerous than going the designated speed. I sure do dread the first time she is going to sit next to me while driving on the highway here - that is going to be a tough one.

And how about "stay dry and do not go out in the rain." I am sure many of us had had that shoved down their throats many a times as they were growing up. But that all changed for me when last Saturday Jeff and I went to Riverdance at the Wolf Trap. For over two hours we sat under our umbrellas while it was pouring down on us. Had my Dad seen me, he would have surely wondered what on earth was I doing, or worse what my husband, who should be my protector, putting me through. "Making memories" that is what we were doing. And, while I did not enjoy the rain as much as I did the show, I must admit it was an okay experience.

And how about no eating in bed, do not wipe your hands on your clothes, put the dishes away as soon as the meal is done, take care of laundry as soon as it is dry, and so on and so forth. I hate to think of all the things that I now do differently. It scares me to think that I have changed, I am different person now than I was before. This is not necessarily a bad thing, it is just different. And different is scary until it becomes familiar. I am proud, though, that I am embracing change with an open mind - it is helping me grow and become my own self, a unique human being.

What I realized, though, is that changing does not mean giving up on your past or your parents or those who contributed to making you a growup. It does not mean you are ungrateful to what they have done, or turning your back on them. It merely means taking the best out of everything you learned and molding it to fit your form. It means giving special thanks to those you lost sleep over you and worried about you. It means honoring them and repaying them their debt.