A few years ago, I read this excerpt from one of Erma Bombeck’s columns, when she discovered she was dying from cancer—it was titled, “If I Had to Live My Life Over”:

“… I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage. I would have talked less and listened more. I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded. I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace. …I would have sat on the lawn with my kids, even if it meant grass stains.”

It hit home. I have a bottle of perfume—one that I love—that was a Mother’s Day gift from awhile ago. I’ve used about a quarter of it. I’m not sure if I’m waiting for the queen to visit, an invitation to the presidential inauguration ball, or just some romantic date with my husband. But for some reason, I hesitate to use it, as though it’s a precious commodity; that once it’s gone, it’s gone.  – – –  Keep reading

This one from Water into Wine  that I wrote two years ago but the message still holds true. Its all a gift – the light coming in my bedroom still saves me, we still get an inordinate amount of pleasure from baby bunnies,  our ducks are no longer with us which we can still feel sad about and that boy who turns seventeen is making big plans for his future and still keeping me up sometimes

 

Here’s a snippet

Ducks in A Row ?

Well yes they are.

Literally.

Two of them in fact. We’ve added a pair of fluffy tailed ducklings to our backyard brood because its spring and we couldn’t help ourselves. They’re growing fast, there are plans for a pond and a bigger enclosure and they make our backyard farm yard feel complete.

Metaphorically?

It’s a different story

Ducks in a row. Not even nearly. Never have been really – even when I had all the time in the world I didn’t run a tight ship but now throw in:

• working full time
• a healthy dose of midlife forgetfulness
• and a weird sort of inertia that hits me at odd times (that I can only put down to still feeling the loss of my mum)

– – – and right there I’ve got myself a whole new level of hit and miss going on.

But that never did stop a good life from happening.

Its struck me that while I seem to have little capacity to do anything more than go to work, cook dinner and keep the washing machine going that the things that bring us the most joy aren’t always the things we’ve wrestled to the ground with our super human powers and shaken the living daylights out of – – – –   Keep reading