THE GOOD LIFE

When I began writing opinion letters and guest editorials for the local paper fifteen years ago, it was such a thrill to see my thoughts and words in print. To read the title of my submission and my name underneath it brought forth feelings I never knew existed. It made me feel important, like I was ‘somebody’ and not “just” a mother of a big family.

I never in my wildest imagination counted on it going any further.

But then again, I never thought I would be single again at age 47 or that my youngest child would have gotten cancer. I never thought I would start a manufacturing company and lose it ten years later, or that I would eventually remarry yet again and live in paradise, both literally and figuratively. A place that serves not only as inspiration for creativity but is also an oasis from the chaotic. There is peace in the mundane, in the sound of the waves lapping against the shoreline as I try to figure out what to do next. The sweet curtain of silence is a barrier from the talking heads and naggings of advertisements.

I used to bemoan the fact that we didn’t travel more often, having waited all these years to visit other lands and places I’d only read about. Working from home with deadlines and phone conferences was sometimes as hard as traveling to an office everyday.

“Unplug the phone” he’d say. “Viola! You’re on vacation!”

It took me a few years to realize he was right, even though I still want to see Ireland, Greece and Rome.

The events in my life are not spectacular or catastrophic; they don’t make me special or different than the woman down the street or the next state, for that matter. What happens to me happened to a lot of people – I just seem to have the ability to write about it so that others can relate their experiences in much the same way.

I know how to connect the dots.

I am grateful for all that I have now, and all that I had in the past – most of it now lost forever. I have begun to accept that the lines in my face are not merely the result of a poor night’s sleep – they are part of me now and are not going away. Daily yoga and pilates has begun to mold my body into a shape I can live with, toning my muscles and clearing my head.

I am finally comfortable in my own skin, even though I had deluded myself into thinking I was at age 25, 35, and even 45. Not like I am now – it wasn’t until I hit 50 that I realized I was becoming the person I was supposed to be. I am finally living the good life, the one I thought I had carved out for myself all those years ago.

It is wonderfully ironic the latest opportunity to write and create came in the form of a magazine.

It’s name? “The Good Life.”

Look for me and my byline in the October issue.

For this and for whatever else comes my way, I will be eternally thankful. To God, to the man who brought me here, and to all those who encouraged me and kept me humble along the way.

I am no where near the end of the story.