I have wanted to be many things in my life.
Here are just a few:
I want to be a marine biologist or conservationist every time I visit Tofino, BC
A University Professor
An Interior Designer
There was a short time I wanted to be an Licensed Practical Nurse but only because of the convenience of a one year course but the reality is that I could NEVER be a nurse.
I always wonder if I am smart enough to become a Doctor
A Photographer…but I would never admit this to anyone but myself or maybe not even to myself.
And a Lawyer….but the kind that doesn’t make any money: A Human Rights Lawyer.
At this point this is the only occupation I feel would bring satisfaction and I might see through more than a year which is about my attention span for any hobby I might consider taking professionally.
I repeat rhythmic word patterns when I walk. For example, “Aurora borealis, aurora borealis, aurora borealis.”
I recognize that my standards are too high and feel like they should be loosening up as I get older but they’re not which makes me a pill to live with. But as I tell my husband, “if you think it is bad living with me, try being me.”
I have a life story that is too far fetched to even make into a novel, therefore the chances of me ever writing out my “memoirs” is slim to none.
I have just finished my third mince pie and will probably polish off this last one before this post is done.
I have few friends and always have. I have no life long friends, they left me long ago, but I have Ben and he knows me and loves me anyway.
I did commercials for Littlest Petshop when I was 13 but it was okay because I looked about 8.
My love language is food.
Most days I don’t think about the fact that Ella has Down Syndrome.
I have never broken a bone
And have no grey hairs, although now saying that I am sure I will get one tomorrow.
Christmas time is really hard for me. I cry more at Christmas than any other time of year simply because I feel for those who have lost loved ones and must find a way to celebrate Christmas without them. I see needs I can’t meet and hearts I can’t mend and often the grief becomes too much to bear. And if I could figure out a way to get down on my knees and beg for your help over the internet, I would.
More than 8, less than thirty. The Christmas season is upon us and life is full.
And one last one to send you into your weekend: I often wonder how it is that my kids look nothing like me and are still ridiculously adorable.
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