In the past week, I've been surprised by flowers at the stage door (thanks mom and dad), impressed by my students' progress in tutoring sessions, amused by the tenacity of a particular fart-loving twelve year old, frustrated by a relationship that just won't work, made to feel like I don't do much of value, swallowed momentarily by annoyingly oppressive waves of insecurity, and stunned by the most romantic, passionate, incredibly flattering love letter ever written. In aggregate, I'm reminded of all I have to be thankful for.
New York City can be a judgmental, status driven place. It's easy to lose sight of your happy when it seems as though everyone around you wants to know what you do, where you do it, how much you make, who your friends are, what/who you're wearing, what you can do for them, where you're going, etc.. Even though I was in East Africa for only a month, I forgot how this particular Northeast clime has a tendency toward inducing panic if you're not careful to make time to take care of yourself.
I have a butter yellow dining room. There are three bouquets of roses and or wild flowers gracing my apartment. I have enough expendable income to buy some new sparkly clothes when I'm missing my audacious grandmother. I have incredible friends and parents who are as close to perfect as parents can get and my kids are alright.
There are cul-de-sacs on the road of life. Sometimes you have to go backwards to find your way back to your path. There is no shame in turning around and going back the way you came if that is what you need to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment