Humbled and Alive
Sat in the Comedy Store last night in aid of 'The Honeypot Charity' I was really happy. I had travelled in to Leicester Square on the Piccadilly Line with distant travellers and large suitcases but, I felt relaxed and not the usual overwhelming desire to bolt at a packed tube.
I had a seat for starters and the travellers beside me were German so I had a moment of reminiscing of another me, a long time ago, when Germany was home.
I took comfort in hearing the accent once again and imagined myself at a much more innocent age not knowing what the world would offer or present. I at that age didn't know how big I could dream.
I realised how how far I had come since then. I liked her, my younger self, she certainly had strength.
I have to confess, upon analysis, I am the happiest now than I have been for many years. I have this lust for life that comes from a freedom of not having anybody tell me I can't; not allowing anybody to tell me I shouldn't. I am free because of knowing my own limits and then having the great pleasure at realising I didn't at all as I smash down another wall.
I have hopes and dreams that are no longer maybe's but, given. I don't doubt I won't achieve them if I really do want to. I am alive in every sense of the word. I am flesh and blood and that beating heart is excited for what's to come. The only thing I fear is life ending too soon.
On the tube I sat in my biker jacket that fit like a glove and my padded jeans and in my bowling bag my sparkly retro helmet and a pair of biker gloves. I was traveling home on the back of my husband's triumph and the only thing wrong with that picture is I wanted to be riding my own.
So I set myself a brand new goal. Gliding through traffic in London to get home rather than standing on a platform as another delay is announced; it was heaven and it felt sobering.
I held on completely trusting him and I moved in time, leaning in to bends and roundabouts and I saw the world from a new perspective. A road already travelled so many times before looks different when you travel with the wind nipping at your legs and whistling past your visor. You learn a new respect for what's about you.
The purpose of the Comedy Store was not just to laugh at Russell Howard, Nish Kumar, Stuart Goldsmith, Glenn Wool, Emmanuel Sonubi, Tiff Stevenson, Kelly Convey, Tom Rosenthal and the compare Tom (who's surname I've forgotten, sorry) it was to raise money for children who are carers for loved ones, it is the only charity of its kind in the UK I believe.
In the interval they played a VT of a young boy who takes care of his mother, who can't play out, stay out with friends because of her needs but, also because he fears the consequence.
All at once, I went from joy to sorrow as the crowds pushed and bustled towards the bar to get their fix in the 10 minute interval. I watched as others like me stared fixated on the loop of the VT and I felt a certain guilt for feeling as alive as I was.
I was humbled by this young child who didn't complain, got up at 6am every morning to do his chores and get himself to school but, the thing that struck me the most that made me choke after laughing so hard at jokes was the picture he created, the title of which said alone as he had a photograph of himself curled up in the corner of a room. He felt that at a time of sadness and desperation.
The charity gave him an out, gave him opportunity to be a child and I watched him play and gain a certificate and I was humbled again by the generosity and giving.
What life persistently teaches me is that life has to be lived, life is about giving and making a difference to somebody else as well as yourself.
Nobody knows what tomorrow brings but, if you don't aim for your tomorrow will you be happy knowing that what you have aspired to, what you have achieved, equals living?