A friend of forty years was my houseguest last night. We had a gala dinner, with dining pal Betty, at Fixture--so good. I laughed--almost every table had those roasted beets on it. If you haven't tried them, you must.
But later, Linda and I sat in my study and talked--inevitably we talked about old times. We've seen each other through some rough patches--divorce and single parenthood for me, widowhood twice for her. I told her about the first love of my life, how devastated I was when we saw (well, he saw) it wasn't going to work out. But talking about it and reliving the good times and bad, I realized that what my mom always said was true: things work out as they are meant to. If I had married that first true love, I would never have had the life--nor the children--that I have now. And if my ex had not decided it was time "to take care of himself" (with four children under twelve?) I would never have developed into what I like to think of as the strong, independent woman I am today.
I belong to a writers' listserv that is made up mostly of women writing their memoirs. Lately there's been much conversation about exploring the deep, hidden, dark part of your life and the growth that comes from such examination. Sometimes I wonder if I'm Pollyanna or in deep denial, but I think I've already explored those parts--realizing that first love affair wouldn't have worked out, finding that the children and I were better off emotionally after their father left. Oh, yes, there are some blips along the way that I'd just as soon not think about, but they weren't life-changing. So I don't think memoir is in my future.
I could tell funny stories about my marriage and the break-up but I don't feel a need to do that. My ex did a lot of good for me--opening up my world--even if he hurt me badly. And that was all along time ago. I've had a good life, one I'm proud of and happy with. I have four wonderful children--such nice adults who enjoy my company (or so they say) and I love theirs. I have seven of the best grandchildren in the world.
There were days of course that you never could have told me that, but these days I really do feel the Lord works things out for the best--with our faltering help. I'm a sunny optimist about the future.
But later, Linda and I sat in my study and talked--inevitably we talked about old times. We've seen each other through some rough patches--divorce and single parenthood for me, widowhood twice for her. I told her about the first love of my life, how devastated I was when we saw (well, he saw) it wasn't going to work out. But talking about it and reliving the good times and bad, I realized that what my mom always said was true: things work out as they are meant to. If I had married that first true love, I would never have had the life--nor the children--that I have now. And if my ex had not decided it was time "to take care of himself" (with four children under twelve?) I would never have developed into what I like to think of as the strong, independent woman I am today.
I belong to a writers' listserv that is made up mostly of women writing their memoirs. Lately there's been much conversation about exploring the deep, hidden, dark part of your life and the growth that comes from such examination. Sometimes I wonder if I'm Pollyanna or in deep denial, but I think I've already explored those parts--realizing that first love affair wouldn't have worked out, finding that the children and I were better off emotionally after their father left. Oh, yes, there are some blips along the way that I'd just as soon not think about, but they weren't life-changing. So I don't think memoir is in my future.
I could tell funny stories about my marriage and the break-up but I don't feel a need to do that. My ex did a lot of good for me--opening up my world--even if he hurt me badly. And that was all along time ago. I've had a good life, one I'm proud of and happy with. I have four wonderful children--such nice adults who enjoy my company (or so they say) and I love theirs. I have seven of the best grandchildren in the world.
There were days of course that you never could have told me that, but these days I really do feel the Lord works things out for the best--with our faltering help. I'm a sunny optimist about the future.
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