Day, Hour, Minute

Now that the house was in order and I felt a little more organized I could focus. Do you ever feel that way? Like when the house in is disarray it somehow mimics what you are feeling inside. Now my house was in order, things were in its place, all shiny and bright and smelling fresh and clean. That’s how I was beginning to feel. Organized. All things put back in their places and now I could really start listening to myself. I started small. No big going out and partying and such, just by every time I wanted to do something I did it. I read a book on my deck, I had a glass of wine on the couch, I sat in the chair in my room and began to write. Things I hadn’t taken the time for before were becoming very important to me.

Food became again a center of attention in my life, but not in the way when I wasn’t eating but in the way of again creating something that would show my love of food and for those I cared about. I made delicious early summer meals of tilapia and clams over couscous or London broil with a chimichuri sauce. I made fresh tomato salad with basil and a green goddess dressing. These things began to make the house smell of life. That it was being lived as opposed to just surviving. I made dinner dates with my daughters and we ate and chatted and laughed together. I felt good about myself and that I didn’t need anyone to rely on. I didn’t need to be saved, because I was too busy saving myself.

I began making plans with my girlfriends. We do a ladies dinner every single Wednesday. Usually at my house, but sometimes we rotate. Those dinners would fill me up, not just literally due to the great food we were eating, but with joy, with sustenance that was intangible. I was creating a world in which I loved living. I no longer was looking for an escape from ever day life, because my life was becoming really worth living. Worth experiencing and worth being a full present part of and I loved it. I couldn’t wait for the weekends. Every weekend was something.

The beach, the lake, dinner in the park, picnics, old mansions with live music. Things were as they should be and I felt myself not even thinking about wanting or needing a man. I found myself not anxious to get back into the dating world. Week after week of the summer, I was being me, enjoying my life, thriving if you will and I couldn’t believe how different I felt. I couldn’t believe that it had taken me so long to fall in love. Not with someone, not with material things, but with myself.

I know they say you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else, but I never really believed “them” I mean really, I didn’t know the sense of self I would feel. The sense of pride in myself for how I was living my life. I had gone so long and so many years just getting by and that was no longer an option. It was sad for me to think of how many years had gone by that although I had great memories they were mostly filled with turmoil and strife. They were about getting to the next day, the next hour the next minute. I was constantly pushing life forward to get though whatever I was going through and I felt like I had missed so much. I had missed myself. I had missed being who it was I was put on this earth to be.

I didn’t know just yet who that would be or what it would look like. But it was off to a pretty start and instead of wanting the next day or hour or minute to come I wanted to savor the day, hour, minute I was in. To really appreciate the people around me, my family, my friends, my home, myself. I hadn’t honored the most important person in my life and now I was doing that. Me. Every day, every hour, every minute I was being me. The best me I knew how to be, the best version I could become and I knew it would constantly change and get better, but for right now. For this day, their hour, this minute. Life was good. Not because of anything specific, but because I decided to choose for it to be.

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