Always during Thanksgiving, it seems appropriate to consider what you are thankful for.
This year, I am thankful for: (a) age—both my boss and Ammiel once simultaneously told me (to my face) I was old but more so because with age seems to come, well, wisdom; (b) persons—specifically a special desert (or is it dessert?) person, close friends, virtual ones (even pseudo-virtual, ahem, Tiffany), coworkers (Nades, you belong in the close friends category; check), family; and (c) my mother whom already belongs in the last category so must-go-without-saying but deserves a mention all to her own.
These last few days (or weeks, really), I have been pondering ideas of hope, desire, fulfillment, love, purpose and the likes. After some good home cooked grub (courtesy of chef Anna) and Kung Fu Panda (courtesy of entertainer Anna), my mother offers advice to a question I posed after my drive to their home on Wednesday. I did find it odd she did not offer any immediate thoughts to my mulls. But I am glad she held off until the physical and mental fills of today.
Mother reasons with me that life is, at best, limited to about eighty or so years. She empowers me to go after dreams with responsibility—to self—and faithfulness—to God. Because a life of I-tried is better than a life of what-ifs. And putting yourself out there builds self and faith. And failure is not a done deal. You can always fail again.
That last sentence was meant to be funny.
Anyway, I like where I am right now. In therapy sessions, this would be called a break.
I needed a break.
In both a therapeutic and absence-of-work sense.