I wonder if I should start writing here again.
I've been very busy lately, with lots of good things, and it has been easy to let the habit of this blog lapse under the constant pressure of work deadlines and other life demands. But I do sort of miss the regularity of hearing my own voice. My voice without constraints or deadlines, not attempting to craft the best answer to a question, but simply being here and flowing.
I like telling stories, and I like noting details that then become a tapestry of my life's experiences, crazy quilted together to make a flowing whole.
Outside the window of the hotel. the palm trees wave in a cloud-sent breeze and I could be on Tahiti or in Hawaii, instead of much closer to my home. I have the solitude of this room, with the need to meet a deadline. But I'm not alone, not really, as my family waits for me by the pool, hoping that I will shrug aside my work long enough to join them in their fun.
Childhood is fleeting, and my own daughters' is quickly receding into the past, leaving lovely young women in their place, but making me appreciate and want to maximize every moment of play with them that yet remains.
Life is fleeting, and here, from my vantage point of mid-age, I both savor my youth that is not quite entirely spent and embrace the stately older age that is quickly coming towards me, whether I am ready or not, taking me inexorably along to my future where I will be even older (and, one hopes, even wiser, even richer, even happier, and all of that). I easily see myself older, a grey haired lady with her errands and clubs, a grandmother with responsibilities, a civic figure of some sort. The plump writer of children's stories. The matronly but competent leader. And so, as best I can, I do try to enjoy today. Even as life presents a never-ending series of problems and discomforts and new issues to address, I try to remember to simply enjoy today. And to be grateful. And to smile.