For 46 years, beginning at age 19, I was defined by perimeters—twice married, once divorced, mother of five, committed Catholic, teacher, grandmother, caregiver, friend, retiree, volunteer.

Not now.

Now I am becoming.

I treasure spontaneity and laughter, am impatient with ritual routine, with the mundane.  Sitting still, even with a book, is increasingly difficult.  Comfort in relationships feels much safer.

Yet, for at least the last five years, I have eaten a whole-wheat bagel each morning, and have worn the same pair of Birks each day for those five years.  Five pair of jeans and seven denim shirts hang center stage in the closet.  Small talk is an art form I have yet to master.   Listening is better than talking.

I require a reason for each day, a measure of time and success.  The measure is always the people in my life.

This contrast between rigid and free mixes into an annoyingly responsible woman with future plans for singing and dancing.


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