The Promise of a Vagabond

So yes I have this simple life. And I love it. Oh yes, I do. And I have to remind myself of this so often of late because I have friends who are starting off on grand, slam bam adventures and I get a little jealous – just every now and then – of their escapades. When the economy took a dive, quite a few people in my town went looking for new digs. It’s a mass exodus, really. The other day, I came across an old Girl Scout roster from two years ago and saw that, in that time, more than half of our sweet Brownie troop has moved away. One family went to Florida, where they somehow ride roller coasters just about every day. One went to go and live at grandma and grandpa’s beach home. One family is setting off this week for ports unknown, though I’m told...

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You always, always, always have a choice

There is this exercise in a book I’m reading (Your Life as Story), in which you are to write a letter to your grandchildren. The exercise is a tool to help you discover what’s important to you, to find the meaningful bits of story that weave and course through your life. I go in blindly and begin to write all at once without thinking, as that’s how I tend to do most things when I don’t have any idea where to start. This is what comes out: Dear Dearies, I’m assuming that you know all of this because your grandparents and your parents do, but I want to set a few things down in writing so you know what I think I’m 35 now – not so old, in your mind certainly, because you no doubt see me as a knobby old lady and it’s...

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