Information surrounds me. I wear a Fitbit, meaning I know at any given moment my heart rate, my steps, stairs ascended, and calories burnt. Once at home, I can also track my sleep, water consumption, calories, weight loss, and compare my results to friends in my Fitbit Tribe.
I have access to my older son’s homework and grades via a computer program. With a flick of the tablet, I know what he did, how he did, and what he needs to do. It’s wonderful and maddening.
And with all this information, I still don’t know a damn thing. I don’t know what I will do, where I will live, or how old I will be when we return to America. We are attempting to extend again, and we possibly may get two more years here. Or, we will return home approximately a year from today. We just don’t know.
I rode a moped for the first time today, just because the idea scared me. My friend give me the cooler helmet, the one with goggles, and we went down the block and back. “Put your arms out and we’ll do King of the World,” he said. And we did.
Another friend gets on an airplane next week, and her absence is unthinkable. All I know is that my feelings will possibly taste like french fries that night.
Fitbits and fifth grade homework, moving and mopeds. They go together because they just do. I control my movements and monitor my kids’ education. I fight my feelings with paper orders or greasy foodstuffs.
And then sometimes, I just go for a ride for the hell of it. I raise my arms, and feel the wind, and allow the sunshine to rest on my face.
And sometimes, that’s all I get to know.