Tomorrow is my Talking on Paper Writing Group. Having that deadline always encourages me to actually put pen to paper. Here is my submission.

Starts and Not Finishes

On a recent shopping trip at Target, I spotted a pair of new, shiny black tap shoes. Instantly, I was transported to my early childhood and into my Tap, Ballet, and Baton Twirling Class. I hadn’t thought of  five year old me for a very long time. This memory evoker triggered a series of reminisces of all the things I started and never finished.

To this day, I’m envious of anyone who can play a musical instrument. I could play one had I ‘finished’. My mom dutifully took me to guitar lessons. I could play a mean rendition of Proud Mary but for some reason I stopped.

At one point, we were babysitting a grand piano so my mom signed me up for lessons then. My Hot Cross Buns was impeccable yet again, for some reason that’s as far as I went. I now wonder if my mom quit taking me to various activities, exasperated by my unwillingness to practice these skills to perfection or did I just tire of them? It’s a question I had never thought to ask myself, or my mom when she could have answered.

This quitting mentality didn’t end in early childhood. As I thought more about all I had attempted to do, the list became extensive: Spanish in middle school, French in high school, a teaching credential after college, even a travel agent certification during stay-at-home motherhood.

C.S. Lewis said, “You never know what you can do until you try, and very few try unless they have to.” Well, Mr. Lewis can't say I didn't try. So you will never find me attempting to step, heel drop, brush, shuffle, flap, or ball change. And no, I can't plié, relevé, or pirouette and because I never finished French, I can't even pronounce what I can't do.

I appreciate the accomplishments of those who persevered and mastered their craft though I have to wonder how many things did they attempt but never finished.

Steve asked, "Doesn't it make you sad to draft such a list?" Actually, it truly doesn't. I have a deep sense of gratitude for my mom's attempt at broadening my horizons. I have accepted my limitations and 'not finishes' and at this age, I'd probably just hurt myself if I was to toss a baton around anyway.

I tried. I didn't have to. I quit. I'm good with it. But boy, new, shiny black tap shoes are very adorable (though probably not so much in a size 10).