Workout day 54 (lunch-time walk (pathetic, I know); @postaday 35, #postaday2011
I look around at people I know and I think it must be easy to be them. I think how easy life has been, how they went to good schools and their parents funded their college education, that they got married to the perfect spouse, had wonderful children, and now have amazing careers. At the end of the day they come home to a gorgeous, clutter-free house with stainless steel appliances in the kitchen, an island with a base that serves as its wine cellar, an herb garden growing by the indoor fountain that bubbles zen calm.
I perceive myself surrounded by those whose lives are such perfection. But I’m not so naive to think that none of them has had disappointments, failed to measure up to some standard, have some skeletons in their closet, and dark memories of frustration and humiliation. There are, for all of us, those sinks that don’t drain, piles of laundry that don’t wash themselves, the African violets that never bloom.
Life is challenging, and if it weren’t, then it would be of little value. While someone in our world might welcome the gift of a dental kit with unmatched gratitude, there will be those who think they can only drink French champagne if it’s served in an Irish Waterford flute.
It isn’t easy being me, and that’s how it has to be. I know when I ask questions people would rather I wouldn’t, but I really try to be diplomatic. It’s not fair for me to expect someone else to step up and Question Authority when it’s my calling. Whether I’ve asked the right questions or not is always up for debate. But I always seem to ask the right people. How do I know? They are so gracious. They see the opportunity for a eureka moment. How lucky is that? It makes being me a little easier.