The Day That Came

My mama, Leslie Jean

C'est moi.

I stare at my face in the mirror as I get ready for my day, surprised to see it there, alive, animated and full of colour. Honestly, I didn't think I would make it to forty-seven, probably because that face looking back at me is SO much like my mothers and she died two months prior to her forty-seventh birthday. It's probably irrational that somewhere in my mind, I have attached my own fate to hers, especially considering our lives could not have turned out more different, but the mind is not always rational, nor are the fears and worries it conjures.

The last couple of weeks have been tumultuous and reflective, as one day slipped into the next with the ol' mountain man's life hanging in the balance. One of life's universal promises is that sooner or later, it always comes to an end (...although depending on what you believe, that ending is merely a beginning to something else MUCH better). Sometimes it's difficult for me not to obsess about this eventuality, the knowledge that things can change, and end, in the blink of an eye. Mostly, that premise is  not an "if", rather it's  a "when", and if I'm not careful, I will unpack and live there ever waiting on the brink.

I have lots of little tricks to refocus myself when I get too wrapped up there on that precarious edge. I go out and immerse myself in Mother Nature's majesty, spend time with children reading or playing or just listening to their thoughts and dreams and remember that whatever comes, I must make the most of my RIGHT NOW. I must live my life, dive into my relationships full-throttle. Time is too precious to waste even a moment holding back. And here I am, after worrying and wondering if I'd make it to the birthday my mother missed...the day stretched out ahead of me...the day that came! Hello there forty-seven year old girl! What shall we do today to make it count?!