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Sometimes, on a bad day when the cold has chased me back indoors, and I have slipped on the snow and bruised my ego, I thumb through listings looking to run away to someplace warm. Not that I can afford it. And I feel sorry for myself.
Which leads me to think about the decisions I've made in my life, with no thought or little thought to the future. And I have to eat crow and come back to my reality.
Somehow, I never thought I’d grow old. I lived moment to moment, adventure to adventure way back in the before time. It was all I knew how to do.
Betrayals happened. Husbands left. Houses were sold. Long-term relationships filled a gap. Holding my breath I moved on, uncertain but determined. And I stopped an almost marriage in its tracks. Twice.
So what is the worth of these memories?
A fortune, really. For the times well-lived, if not well-planned. Others might have made different choices. I made the ones that, at the time, were the only ones I knew how to make.
Yes, it's been a not-so-good day, but then we all have them.
I am content, and some days downright happy.
I have a life I enjoy, with time to do so, I have a wonderful family, two remarkable children, four grandchildren that take my breath away, good friends, someone who cooks for me, and a silly black cat.
And I have a secret weapon against the cold of winter: a brother and a sister who live in Tucson, where the sun shines at least 287 days a year and it's sweater weather in January.
The world is going crazy around me, but I’m eminently sane.
And aware that it was just a bad day and the morning will be as bright as gold.