I was talking to my Mum recently, and we reached the realisation that Dad only really started working when he was 27 years old; before that he'd been studying, travelling the world, and doing his time in the army. It reminded me of a conversation around a table with my extended family last year in Reading, where my uncles and aunties shared their first jobs. These people, who I'd always seen as so established and professional had started in sometimes completely different fields. An uncle who is now doing something with investments started off painting walls, and an auntie who is a teacher started as a housekeeper for a rich family. All this felt very comforting for me, and brings me back to the fact that life, really, is still at its beginning.
It's been a very intense period for Jacob, and as we went on our monthly relationship walk-and-talk yesterday (in which we talk about what we're thankful for in each other, and other things that we could work on or plan for in our marriage), we mulled over what other jobs he might do. Many were education related - teaching teachers how to teach, consultancy work. Others were more general skills in management, or writing and editing. Then we talked about absolutely wild possibilities: a tree surgeon! A plumber ("but I don't want to be a plumber")! A farmer ("now that's a job that takes over your whole life")!
(Unrelatedly?) Dad has this way of looking at you as if you are the most delightful being to ever walk this planet.
I wish I could capture it.
