“the 100 foot journey” is a beautifully told story of an east indian family who settles in a small village in france to open a restaurant, which just so happens to be across the lane from a michelin-rated french restaurant that has been in business for 30 years. though i haven’t read the book, i thoroughly enjoyed the movie.
what captured and moved me was the passion and commitment that the young chef had. he grew up learning about and living food and flavor and aroma and then spent every waking hour learning about french cooking and ingredients and blending and creating. such passion, such focus, such determination.
it occurred to me as i watched this story that what is missing from my life is that kind of devotion to something. my throat tightened and tears blurred the screen as i realized that i have been going through the motions my whole life, following a path that seemed reasonably well-paved and direct. i might have noticed the ones “less-traveled”, might even have considered them, but ultimately i kept to the straight and narrow and, consequently, missed out on something. at least that’s what it feels like now.
i’ve had some pleasant jobs, and some not-so-pleasant, i have two wonderful sons, a husband who works hard and cares about his family, and a comfortable lifestyle. i’m grateful for all of those things, but i still have periods of emptiness, of wondering “is that all there is?”
mine is the whine of those fortunate enough to have time to whine, those who don’t have to work full-time or full-time+ in order to feed their families and heat their homes. while it’s a blessing to have the luxury to ponder “what next”, it’s a curse because the urgency to figure out what to do isn’t there.
with my children out on their own and my husband gone much of the time, i spend a good bit of time wondering what to do. take art classes? learn to throw pots? shall i take up the cello, the harp, the accordion? try out for a play? learn to garden? none of those choices seem important enough, none of them cause an adrenaline rush. maybe i’m past the age of adrenaline rushes. maybe i’ve had my chance and have blown it.
maybe it’s too late for me.