Changing Seasons

Here I am again up too late on a work night avoiding freelance work that I'm so far behind on I might already by fired and don't know it. Instead, I'm searching for the real Adam Levine twitter connection - as if that will bring me any closer to an encounter with his fine, gorgeous self! As I sit here at my kitchen table, I realize that for the first time in my adult life I am enough and I have enough and I am content with my life.

For me that is a huge milestone. I learned early on that to achieve and succeed equaled love, acceptance, and reward. So I spent the better part of 30 years achieving and excelling at most everything I did. That philosophy served me well for quite some time. And during that time I accomplished many goals and received much recognition for my efforts.

But now I guess I am moving into a different season in my life where those things don't really mean so much after all. What is one more degree or title at work? Those certainly don't offer any financial reward. I wonder if I'm simply mellowing with age or if I've given up the rat race for a more peaceful existence.

Maybe it's the changing of seasons from summer to fall. I'm partial to fall not only for its cooler weather, luscious hues of orange, burgundy, and ochre, but something in the air is intoxicating and causes me to long for campfires and baking and pumpkins.

Much of this new found happiness is a result of taking charge of my life - deciding what I alone wanted from it, and not worrying about pleasing someone else. I bought an amazing magic cottage in a small town outside of Houston last year. I've owned a home before, but that was when I was married and it was a joint effort then. I had another home I shared with my fiance', but technically it didn't belong to me. This time, however, the magic cottage is all mine. And I knew as soon as I walked into this place with my realtor last December that I had found my home.

All of the rooms are perfect but my bedroom is a sanctuary where I retreat after a long day's work. I look around and realize it is perfect for me and Draco, my 110lb American bulldog. He is supposed to be guarding the backyard, but most evenings, tonight being no exception, he is at the foot of my bed stretched out in quiet contentment. It's a place where my grown children and sister and her family can visit. A place where my dad and his wife and my aunt can come every now and again and feel at home.

Yes, I am well satisfied with my life.