A three-a.m. spell
of wakefulness inspired me to do a little self-inventory. The results surprised
me, and you might find the same.
Where I live. Fort
Worth gets a big thumbs-up sign from me. I’m over that conviction I was meant
to live in Santa Fe, and I’m realist enough to know that life in a Scottish
village is a pipe dream. Oh, I’d change Texas politics in a heartbeat, and I
might modify the weather a bit. But there’s no place I’d rather live. Part of
it of course has to do with proximity of family, but I love our city—and our
state, for all its warts. The history still thrills me.
What do you do
every day? So many of us work at jobs that are not our dream jobs. We labor for
the paycheck, without the joy of doing something special. I am so fortunate
that when I worked, for thirty years my job revolved around things I like
best—books and writing. Now in retirement, I get to write every day, and I love
it. I was thinking this morning that the happiest part of the day for me is
when I turn on the computer, cup of hot tea at my elbow, and start the day with
email. Do I want to be Joyce Carol Oates--too much angst. Danielle Steele--all
hat and no cattle. A best-selling mystery novelist with a multiple-book
contract with a major house? Nah. I’ve read enough about the pressure of
deadlines and sales numbers and the like. I’ll bobble along at my own little
low mid-list rate, with its occasional moments of high celebration (come to my
signing party September 21—it will be a moment of high celebration or me).
What about living
alone? In spite of frequent visits each day from Jordan and a few from Jacob
(last night he convinced me to sign up for Instagram and now I have to figure
out what to do with it), living alone is fine, but it’s not my first choice. My
dream would be to share my days with the love of my life (heart partner is such
an awkward term). There have been a couple of candidates over the years, and I
miss those men yet, but for various reasons things didn’t work out. I’m fairly
philosophical about it, certainly glad I didn’t settle for lesser alternatives.
Maybe a life of bliss is just another pipe dream.
I do have Sophie,
the perfect dog, for companionship, and she’s good at her job. Is she the
perfect dog? Of course not. She’s willful and spoiled and sometimes crazy with
excitement. But she’s perfect for me. (Couldn’t resist that sly plug for my new
book, Pigface and the Perfect Dog.)
And then there’s
family. I couldn’t, wouldn’t ask for a different family in any way. Oh sure, I
wish they’d call and visit more often. I wish this one wasn’t so busy and that
one wasn’t so driven and yet another didn’t have sensitive issues I blunder
into unknowingly and…wait! They’re already trying to identify themselves, and I
won’t go there. I am blessed with an almost perfect family, and I daily ask the
Lord to wrap them in his arms and throw his white light of protection over
them.
In sum, I’m a
fairly happy person. I hope you are too. Here’s my wish for you: may your life
be full of joy and laughter and just enough tears for balance. May you eat well
and sleep soundly. And that old Gaelic blessing I love: may the road rise to
meet you.
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