[In regards to the title of this post: I totally made it up but it sounds like a real quote. Or like something you'd find printed on the little piece of paper hanging from your tea bag. You're welcome. Go forth and use it.]
I just finished reading Julia Child’s book, My Life in France, and am not ashamed to admit that I cried through the ending. Julia Child represents an enthusiasm for life and an insatiable thirst for knowledge, but most importantly, she’s the essence of a late-bloomer. Besides making me hungry and making me want to visit France, her book inspired me in other ways, since as I found out during my reading, Julia Child didn’t pick up a pan until she was 36.
(We also both have size 12 feet.)
This fact makes me so happy. It means that Julia had traveled, had many other jobs, had married later and had lived life before she found her true calling. The experience helps. As does the maturity.
I am a late-bloomer myself. As one of the youngest in my class, I was the last of my friends to get my period in middle school and the last of my friends to start driving in high school. Other areas I’m a late-bloomer include: motherhood, functional relationships, being athletic, true career happiness and my self-esteem.
But it’s happening…slowly and surely. I’m blooming. The mistakes and lessons I’ve made in taking my time have enriched me. Given me character. And stories.
As Julia Child says…
“I was thirty-seven years old and still discovering who I was.”