Three Best Things Again

At night when I put aside my book, turn out my bedside light and lie on my back for just a few moments, I let the day wash over me. I think of all the good things that happened, that made me smile. Of course the day usually had some bad things, too, but I try to let them go and concentrate on the good. And it works.

Last night I thought of how much I enjoy the Cantabile Ladies Choir and my membership in it. I am the oldest by far but that is part of the fun. I can listen to all those younger--some, MUCH younger--voices and match my sound to them. During breaks, the chatter is of jobs and kids, hit songs and movies, babysitting and babysitters, with nary a word about aches and pains, groans and grouches. They keep me young. And at last night's practice, when I didn't sing because of my cold, I got a chance to just listen. It was lovely. A marvel to me, though, was how much I missed hearing my own voice with the rest.

Before I went to sleep I also thought back to our short visit with our son yesterday when he took time from working on computers, video conference units and networking to just sit and chat for about 20 minutes. Like so many he is struggling in this economic climate and his health has been rotten the last few months. I don't think there is a cold or flu bug that he hasn't harbored this winter. Nevertheless, he keeps going working out the way of his life--with his wife and son--for the next few months. He is always thinking, always planning, always doing what's best. We are so blessed.

And the third thought that came to me was my novel and the way it has opened my life, changed my life for the better, and is nearing completion. Oh, I finished the first draft a year ago but now I am honing in on the final copy. This long, hard process has changed me. I thought last night about the fact that now I talk openly about my writing, about my hopes for it, about the process, about the hard work, about the dedication needed to get where I am going with it. And I have found many others who understand. So many, in fact, that when I talk to those who don't answer or can't relate I realize that has nothing to do with me and I shouldn't worry about it. Here I am, 62, and I finally don't worry about what other people think. My Eureka! is a little late coming but it's brightening my life anyhow.

I wonder what today's three, four, five, twenty zillion best things will be?