I've got a job. One I sometimes love, often like, am generally good at (sometimes damn good), and occasionally would like to strangle (and then step away to watch the last pulsing throes of life, grinning evilly at the wretched destruction I've wrought).
I've got a dear and loved husband, whom I love and respect and am glad I found. Whom I would occasionally like to strangle (but I'd pass on the stepping away to watch the last pulsing throes of life, grinning evilly at the wretched destruction I've wrought part).
I've got friends. Old ones I've known and loved for decades, recent ones I've had for years, several at work or through my love of cruising. They're all important, all dear.
I've got most of my immediate family left. And although I don't see them much, I have them. They're important to me. They're part of me. My father, whom I would occasionally like to strangle and fantasize about the destruction so wrought, but never for too long. My brother. My sister.
I've got Monte. And Batman. And now Emma too. My little kitts.
I've got a place to live and a pretty nice one. I've got books! And this computer ... through which I met my husband, keep in touch with (most) of my family and friends, met my dear cruisin' buddy friends, and found Emma and this job.(No, wait, that was 2 computers ago ...)
I've got the ability to express myself and the self-smarts to do so when I really need it (but not enough self-smarts to do so on a more regular basis so the times I REALLY need it will be fewer and farther between).
I've got. Lots.
I miss my mother. Always. And the unacknowledged, unconscious sense of freedom and security and endless time of my childhood. I miss the summer nights lying in bed listening to cicadas. I miss being woken on summer mornings by the oddly comforting all-is-right-with-my-world sound of droning lawn mowers and smell of newly-cut grass.
I miss my younger body, when french fries went into my stomach and not onto my thighs (and ass and waist and upper arms--what's up with that). I miss Louise. So very much. I miss living my life with the youthful certainty that I have plenty of time to do everything and get everywhere.
All the things I have are part of me, all the things I had. All the things I miss. They all make up the Mosaic of Me, this I know.
I guess it's OK to feel sad sometimes, to feel the missing of things and people. I was lucky to have had all those things to miss now.
So, in my convoluted cheerleaders-never-die (they just wrench their backs trying to do handsprings after age 30, even when drunk)way, missing what and whom I miss means appreciation of what I had. Means I was lucky.
Means I am lucky.
So those are things I can add to what I have. And be grateful for.
Of course, they're also now going on the list of things I hope never to lose and will worry about losing, late at night during a bout of angst-ridden insomnia. It ain't easy bein' Green, you know.