Around me is a pool of light that bathes my plants in tranquil sunshine. A splash of orange on my wall reminds me
that although my youngest daughter now designs clothing for grownups to
wear down the red carpet, her paper doll dreams once fit in the palms
of her nine year old hands. Yesterday I received a postcard from my
oldest, she's charting volcanic activity beneath the ocean's surface,
and when I think back to her childhood, I remember her telling me that
she wanted to be a zookeeper, softball player, and a marine biologist
when she grew up. Being job optional means that I've been able to
accompany her on some of her trips. We've made new friends, tasted
exotic local cuisine, been scared a time or two when things didn't go as
planned, but my last vacation with the girls exceeded our highest
expectations. It's visible in the taut brown skin, the sun dried curls,
and shining eyes. We woke without alarm clocks, sat around eating fruit
by the pool for breakfast, and collapsed in exhausted hunger on the
beach for lunch. The crunch of sand was removed by spring water we had
caught in our containers on our way to the beach. It also came in handy
when our carrots and celery were sandy, and washed away the tang of salt
that burned our berry stained mouths.
It wasn't always like this. There's no point in
dwelling in the past, or bringing it with you into the future. When
people ask me how I achieved the abundant radiance of today, I smile,
because even though there was much heartache along the way, once I
learned to that adhering to principles and discipline was better than
abandoning them, and blaming others, I felt better about myself.
Knowledge is power, so I took parenting, yoga, and money management
classes. I learned how to be empathetic, to nurture, to provide
beautifully crafted nutritionally dense meals that are free from
pesticides, preservatives, and packaging. I have conquered my perfection
addiction. I discovered how to hold onto the present moments, to laugh
when I was being hurt, because I know that there is safety, and security
in me that others who lack peace seek. My friends have been an
incredible resource over the years. It hasn't been easy, but it's mine,
and no one can take what I've accomplished in the hearts of others, and
my children away from me. Today my place is warm, cozy, inviting,
bright, cheerful, crisp, clean, and wholesome. I didn't think it could
ever be like this. I don't regret exposing the vulnerabilities of
yesterday because fear was the only thing that stood between the
perceived trap of then, and the courage I now have. Stop by sometime,
there's food to share, and love to spare for everyone, isn't that wonderful?