I’ve been so busy going through the days that I barely stop to think lately what I’m doing with my life.
That is, I’ve been so intent on surviving that I’m hardly pausing to acknowledge how great it is.
Surviving moving, long weeks, losing my voice, hurting my foot, more long work weeks.
My life is really sweet.
I walk to work through Central Park. I feel the cool breeze and the sunshine and the change of the seasons.
I spend my days sneaking up on tourists and giving them candy.
I go home to my beautiful nest of my own creation, that my hard work allows me to pay for, to my wonderful chatty roommate, and relax how I want to.
I sleep in pitch blackness, on a firm mattress, surrounded by pillows.
I have the life.
I am so grateful.
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