Do you write to be read? ... Or to write?

This is a question I have often encountered in myriad ways, in many situations...
Why do I want to do Medicine? I was often asked when I was a middle school student. It was somehow not enough that in the foggy reality of teen age, when everyone else was just trying to make sense of their own worlds, I knew mine and saw mine so clearly that I did not have to think about what I wanted to do with my life. It was always what, and then I was supposed to explain why! Why was it not enough to want to become a doctor because it thrilled me?
I had no fancy and lofty ideas about altruism and wanting to become a doctor because I would 'get the opportunity to do some good in the world'. Ouch! Yes! I never wanted to become a doctor for the others in the equation. I wanted to become a doctor because it thrilled me to know I COULD do so much. And that would be different and perhaps more than an ordinary mortal could. I still enjoy the challenge of solving biological mysteries each day, several times each day. Yes... someone else is benefited in the bargain. Yes... someone else feels better in the process. Yes... it gives much love and adulation... And yes... it is a different day each day.
My primary reason was the sense of satisfaction of DOING, and making a difference. It was not making a difference FOR others... but simply making a difference. And I knew that if I did this job well, someone would feel better for having been touched by me. It was all a Divine plan. It was not for others but for my own deepest desire to DO a new thing every day that I wanted to become a doctor.
And all those who want to become a doctor for all the good they can do FOR others, forget that it requires immense amount of passion, drive and dedication to keep doing something so well that it can make a difference.

Now I face the same question- why do I write? Do I write to write or to be read?
Is it not enough that I try to make sense of a world in which there are as many tunes as people? Is it not enough that I write? And have the courage to put it up- bare my soul- so to speak- open, vulnerable and shared. I write to write. Of course, it feels great to be read. Of course, it is good to know that there are kindred spirits who feel similarly and cry and laugh at similar things. Of course it feels good to know that I am not alone- in my thoughts and my world. There are others who are touched by the same words and who will also share openly. Without judgement and be as open about sharing their own inner world.

The bottomline is that I would write even if I was not read by another soul. I would write it if it was a pesonal journal that would never be read by anyone else! I would write because it satisfies my creative urge to write. I write because it serves to take me to a deeper place within me and allows me to be myself-

And each time I see someone achieve something extraordinary, I cry a silent tear- of immense happiness and satisfaction. It takes a lot of courage to be yourself- and do something so well that doing it becomes the reward in itself.

I get very sentimental and emotional for that child who walks up the steps to the stage and proudly claim the reward the world gives for having done well. But... would that child not do what they can if that was not coming?

I feel overwhelming emotions WHEN I see love and achievement...

I wish...

A few days ago, as I was doing my yoga class in the evening, I got a few calls on my cell phone. All of them were from the same person! And there were so many that I thought something desperate had happened. My phone had been on silent mode through the class... and I simply had to call back and find out what had happened!?

This friend of mine is a deeply religious person with a sense of being somewhat deeply spiritual, too. I do not say this lightly- because being religious is certainly not equal to being spiritual any more than being in love is equal to being loved!!

She replied to the first trrrring- Hi! Light a lamp in your temple and ask for a wish. Do it BEFORE 8 o'clock. It will come true. Only five minutes left- OK- Bye!

That was cool!

Light a lamp in your temple and ask for any wish!

I rushed to light a lamp- a thousand thoughts racing through my head.

I put the lit lamp in my temple. And I stood there- a couple of minutes still to go. And I thought. And i thought. And I thought.

What could I wish for?

I have a wonderful family- a husband who loves me and is fit as a fiddle, kids who adore me and think I am God incarnate. That I can make anything go away- hurt, fear, bad colds and bad throats, bad playmates and scraped knees. They make my world go round. What more can I ask for?

Then I thought of a friend who is battling a lone battle- trying to make sense of loving a man who cannot give up drinking, trying to bring this man back into the fold of the family he started with her and whose children no longer really want to be with him. My heart goes out to this gal with a heart and a spunk to beat all odds and go on loving despite everything and in spite of it all.

Then I thought of this lady who has always had this huge chip on her shoulder, who is always soooo rude to all at office, who has not been able t find anything nice about anyone in her life and is forever the queen bee who must do everything because she thinks only she can! And who cannot accept that there are those who do as much, if not more.

Then I thought of my best friend who had recently undergone a surgery to remove a cyst from under her eye- a simple procedure but it left her with eyes like bags of blood and they just can't seem to get back to normal.

Then I thought of this mom of a past friend of my daughter who is going through a silly and stupid divorce because the two of them cannot get over who is more important in the marriage- the woman or the man. And who suffers? the two children who have started behaving oddly to say the least.

And I thought of all the homeless, who in the Delhi winter would have to sleep in near zero temperatures out in the open- with a thin cover simply because the city does not have dwellings for the homeless.

And I thought... And I thought...

Can you think so much in the span of less than a minute? I noticed that I would have to ask for my wish real soon- I had only a minute left!

And in that one minute I realised I had to express my gratitude to this God who was going to grant all wishes made before 8:00- that I had to express my deeply felt sense of being truly happy- from inside because I had everything I could ask for.

So I thanked the Lord. And completed my prayer- Let N have her peace, Let S have his job back, Let R's children find their love and their parent's love can survive the divorce, Let N find out that others who work with her are not all trying to pass time but are contributing at least as meaningfully to the world as she thinks she is...

I asked for peace and happiness of all those who touch my life, and whose life I touch.I went a step further and asked for love and peace and contentment to just gently envelop the world as a whole. Everybody deserves a little corner to call their own in which life is a blessing and not an ordeal.

I opened my eyes- and the clock had struck the magic hour.

In that moment of truth, I realised I did not want anything for myself. I had everything I could want, or need.

Today... As I saw the prompt and decided to rethink that question- I thought again-

But today I would like to catch up.
I would like to catch up with my children's pending assignments, with my approaching deadlines, with my just unreachable fitness goals, with my next big surgery, with my next great 'free' moment when I can take a deep breath and just BE. I would like to catch up with the man of my life who is into running these days. And be able to hold him a moment longer.I would like to be able to catch up with everything that MUST be done in the moment and find some time for what I would like to do. Like play with my children, make time to love my husband, spend an evening with my parents, and just generally let my hair down and spend an evening doing nothing! And I would like to catch up and get everything done- and discover that there is still more to do. That Life must go on.

And I would like to catch up- and let go.
I would like to catch up with those floating gas balloons, hold them a while in my hands and enjoy the feeling of having done much in the time I have on this planet. Then... I would like to let go. I would not want to always run and coax my children to do more, run and hold on to my husband and ask him to hold me a moment and let me know I matter. I would like to let go- and allow my children and my husband to find out I'm OK. And they are, too! I would like to hold my coworker by her arms and shake her and tell her we all matter. And then let go. Because she must find out for herself. I would like to finish the next MBA assignment and then, let go- Is this it? Is that all there is? I would like to help my children discover a world where the gas balloons can be tied to the wrists so that when you let go- they do not fly away. They still are with you- till they have any gas left!

And I want to just BE... Stop doing, stop running, stop walking, stop asking, stop cajoling- just be. Just BE happy, just BE there for all those who need that small feed of feeling and looking and seeking and finding- just BE and let everything else BE.

My driving passion...

I wish it were as easy as writing the few words...

This post title made me look inwards. It made me think a level below the surface. It made me pause and contemplate.

It is easy to see my passion in the way I live.

Each moment of the day MUST be filled with something that I am proud to have done. This could be a work day well delivered- each patient feeling special and valued for having sat in front of me. Each surgery that I perform MUST take me farther than yesterday in the outcome, in the technique, and in the sheer quality of a great job done.

Each moment of the day MUST be filled with things I love to do and those that make my life worthwhile. My children and my family- foremost. No matter how busy- I am never TOO busy for them I must, however, also be able to lead by example. I must be able to SHOW that doing a good job great is reward enough. I must show them that being is as important as doing. That Doing MUST take precedence over many other matters- especially when the heart and the head fight.

And I must show them, that it is easy to follow the head when the two fight but- and that is a BIG but- following the heart may actually lead down the path of wonder and rediscovery. That we may even discover ourselves for the first time when we make the courage to follow our heart.

And that DOING SOMETHING WELL IS NOT THE ONLY REASON YOU MUST CONTINUE DOING IT!!!!!

And I am passionate about my reading. There is enough on my phone (Lucky me! with my i-phone and the Kindle- e-books are just a click away) and my i-pad (ditto) and of course, the print version that always lie around all the places I am likely to be. This means my bedside, my study table, my dining table, my bathroom, my car, my office table, my purse and my bag. I carry a book in my hand even if I am going for a movie! Can anything be crazier than that? Actually I found out that the i-phone is great when you must accompany your children and family for the movie they want to watch DESPERATELY and be with them, as well as take out the phone and open the kindle and read. Advantages of back lit technology!

In my book, pun totally intended, decoration is placing a bookshelf in each room.

And my driving passion is being able to create heroes who live each day like heroes. It is to help the children and others who happen to touch my life in any way realise that they are special. That each person has a responsibility to himself to BE the best they can be... that is what we are here for.

And to love freely.
To give abundantly.
To live simply and to think greatly.
To find happiness in being here.

My passion is to live in a way that makes the world a better place- each day.

My passion is to help anyone find the passion in THEIR lives.

My passion is do Math and English as if these are worthy of worship.

My passion is to follow the road less travelled and marvel at the sights and sounds- to LIVE the life we are meant to. Each day.

My home...

We had a burglery that left us in the midst of a ransacking so terrible that we had to just... stop... and breathe...

It redefined life for us.

We had been out for a conference in Europe. Fortunately we were traveling as a family and the children, too were with us. The trip was a wonderful experience, academically and personally.

Sanjay was sure we just HAD to experience something bad soon enough. It was all too good to be true.

We came back to India and back home... The place was completely and thoroughly ransacked.

It took me ten days to just separate out things on the floor into clothes, utensils and others.

It took me ten days to just separate out clothes into those that would need dry cleaning and those that would need to be thrown.

It took me ten days to just create space to stand in the mess.

What they could not take away, they broke. It was a nightmare. And a terrible violation.

We had to re-do our entire house, rebuild ouor home. And the children would not even visit the loo without one of us standing guard at the door.

We have one really large room. We did the obvious... We palced two double beds in ONE room. There was one room to sleep, one room to sit, one room for music and one room for ocassional visitors.

All our friends would express surprise and astonishment... In the same room?! All of you together?

That was when we realised not only our home but our life and our thoughts- all were different! We were square pegs and we did not have any round holes to fit. We had friends come over and sing with us- and we just put food on the table and allowed the foodies to eat and the singers to sing. We even allowed the non-interested ones to read, or be online... Each one do your own thing- so long as you enjoy, you are doing good. And when you can do nothing else, it is still fun to sing in a chorus.

Finally, now- with my daughter 14 and my son 8, they have ASKED for their own room. Not because they thought we, the parents needed the room to ourselves but because the children needed the room to themselves!

ANd then we replaced all windows with clear glass- we get sunlight through out teh day... Really a green plan for the home...

And we now have our friends just drop in and join us for the weekends- for fun and for being together. Because or home is for simplified love and togetherness.

We have never worked on appearances, and it shows in our open hearts and transparent interactions.

We have never worked on pretenses, and it shows in the closeness of our relationships.

I hope, I can teach my children to live simply and fully, that they realise that things do not create a life- real lives are built with real relations and emotions that fill our hearts and hearths, that define our home and our heads, that make us us.

For me crystal is pretty but not decoration! For me a book here under the table and one there over the table is great. If I could, a book shelf would be THE decoration of the home. The music that Sanjay listens to certainly is part of the decor.

So come home to homeliness...
Come home to togetherness...
Come home to love...
Come home to BEING...

The only thing I find getting my nerves raw is clutter... And rest- EVERYTHING is a gentle, lived in kind of homely home feel.

Oh! My God!!

I got a call in the hospital when I was neck deep in seeing my own patients...
"Mom!", my older one was in panic,"Please come home now. Now!" I had to calm her down and ask her, "What happened sweetie?" I was sure it could not be anything serious.
After all, the children were at home, and their granny was with them. Nothing could happen!
But the panic in my daughter's voice was palpable. My maid took over the phone. She told me in broken sentences that my younger one's hand had got caught in the door and the hand was cut off. Now this is a south Indian maid, so I had to calm HER down and understand what she meant by 'hand cut off'. She started sobbing and told me to just come home. I called for my daughter on the phone- she was quiet. Deathly quiet.

I will never forget that silence on the line. I kept trying to talk to her- to get her to tell me something I could make sense of. My darling was scared. She was very scared. And her grand mother's presence did nothing to help. For a moment I resented that. I resented the fact that a child could not be safe despite the granny, that a child could not feel loved in spite of a grand mother right there.

Not able to make out much, I got into my car and raced home. I do not know how I drove, I have no recollection of how long it took.

All I remember is the look on their faces when I reached home.

My son, barely a year old was howling- crying so loud that he could have collected all the neighbours! Strangely, the neighbours were no where near! There was blood all around the house. His hand - the left one was tied in a dirty blood stained handkerchief and the room was a mess. I ran to hold him close, asking for where was Saniya, my very special daughter.

She has always been a part of my soul. She is an angel- but she forgot to put on her wings, always smiling and great with small children, she had prayed a whole month for a little brother. She wanted to hold him the minute she laid eyes on him. She adored him.

I found her crouching in a  corner- scared out of her wits... scared of so much blood in the room, scared that something really terrible had happened. It was heart-rending. The fear and the panic were so unnecessary. Saniya was the one who had brought ice in the handkerchief foe her little brother.

I hugged her close and kissed her, with the other hand I picked up my son. He stopped crying instantly. I talked to both of them and tried to understand what had happened. I took off the hanky and saw the hand.

And I gasped.

The little baby of mine was looking at me with big huge eyes and he had the confidence that everything would be OK. My little daughter looked at me with her own fears and also had the confidence that I would make it all OK.

Both of them had faith that their mother would set it all right. And in this space no one else mattered We were together.

I finally found out what had happened.

My daughter and her friend were playing. My daughter's friend closed the door and Moksh's finger got caught in the hinge. The terminal one third, with the nail, and the soft bone of a small child was hanging with a fragile tag of skin. It did not look like it would survive. The ice had stopped the bleeding but it could have blocked off the blood vessels that could give vitality to the cut segment. I put them both in the car, got into the driver's seat and called my husband to meet me at the hospital.

Fortunate that both of us are doctors and can let our logical brain take over at a moment's notice.

He called a plastic surgeon friend of his. This plastic surgeon met us outside the OR and took my son into the operating suite immediately. He told us that the injury was a lot commoner than we had thought. That the results would be dramatic. That he would do the best.

It took unbearably long waiting outside for Moksh to come out. And when he was brought out, he looked delicate, fragile, as if he needed to be protected. I took him in my arms and talked to him. His hand had been placed in a Boxing glove dressing so that he would not disturb the wound. I taught him the treat it like a baby on the opposite shoulder, pat it and try to make the baby sleep. He went around the house with "Baby!" for a fortnight.

I sat down with Saniya and tried to tell her it was OK. It had looked scary but it was not that bad, and most importantly, it was not her fault. But she would have to be more careful as the elder sibling.

The trauma was not so much a nearly chopped phalanx but more the scarred , scared psyche that confronted Saniya- herself a baby.

But she took it remarkable well. She is a great person. And so is Moksh. They know, deep inside that they have to stand by each other and use their head in a moment of crisis. And using their head means that they must inform their mom or dad.

And it brought us close as a family. We went places with that boxing glove baby. We played with this new born. And we bade him bye bye at the final dressing a few days later. We all came out of it with our hearts stronger and our heads in the right place.

Too much blood does not mean it is hopeless. It means that the life still pulses with vitality and hope.

Mistakes and accidents will happen. They are just that- mistakes and accidents.

My son does not any longer really remember the 'baby'. My daughter will probably never forget the incident. But they are both special and blessed to have discovered their own strength and their own confidence that fear can be overcome. That fear is simply a state of the mind.

And my mother-in-law? She has aged. And she probably does not remember the incident either. She needs her own looking after and is like a baby, but a more difficult one than the children who are now growing up. She does have periods of lucidity and has periods of being totally absent from the context of the world. The neurologists say she could be having Alzheimer's.

Now how does one overcome THAT?

Make time for family...

A few days ago, we met some friends after what appears to be ages no... eons.

He had gone through a terrible month. Having been hospitalised and unable to attend to his own patients, this doctor friend of ours had gone through real hell and the virtual world had nothing to do with it.

She had been battling work, and husband's health and the cherry on the cake had been her son's difficulties at college. The pressure cooker was on- full and high. It only needed a little tap on the stove top to blast the whole kitchen to glory.

They have been very close friends. My husband and this couple have known each other practically their whole life. They have studied from Junior school through to high school and then even Medical school together. When they meet- nostalgia does not even begin to describe the scene. Often I am the outsider.

At such times, I do what I most enjoy- let them talk and be with my children, and theirs.

This once, SHE came out and talked to me...

"Time really flies! Does it not?!", wistfully, woefully, nostalgic. "It was only yesterday that you guys had got married and had come for dinner. D was still a small baby. Now he's all grown up and gone! I miss my son. And you know? I do not remember what his childhood was like! I regret that. Do you?"

It was heartfelt and it was sheer pain. She was looking for a support- a peg to dry her regret on.

My take on life has always been Family first. And it can be excruciatingly difficult. I am an ENT Surgeon, a writer (of sorts!), a prolific reader, an HR (Human Resource) developer, and I am doing an MBA, Yoga, Kumon, and I love to cook at least one meal for the family. So how does everything fit in?

I told her," M! That is ONE regret I had decided long ago never to have. Through everything I do, this is one thing that has no compromise. I wake up each morning to prepare both my children's school tiffins, get them ready and drop themoff to school before I start rushing through the day to reach the hospital and do my 'job'. Do not get me wrong here. I am crazily passionate about my work and my patients think the world of me.

"But- first and foremost, I am a mother, a wife, a sister and a daughter. I decided that the hospital will go on even if I am no longer alive. The people who will never to be able to be the same again are my children and my family.

If I can be good to my patients, why not extend the same patience and time to my children?

If I can be a great surgeon, why not make the same effort at being a great mother?

My children study with me. They play with me. They shop with me. They even cook with me. I teach them, I lead them, I love them and I never tire of telling them how much they mean to me. I am conscious of each moment I am blessed to be with them. I am grateful they love me so much that time, relatively speaking, simply flies!"

You see- life has the tendency to take over. We must make the time that we have count. We may use it well or not, it cannot be stored for use later. Once released, the arrow of time never really comes back. The only way in which we can recapture the moments is through our pictures and snapshots of the past.

Children do grow up fast. Their needs change. Their desires and dislikes change. Through it all, I am grateful to still be the confidante for my 14 year old and be the punching bag for my eight year old.

The more involved we are with our children and the younger they are, the younger we remain.

And the more energy we have to keep doing this thing called family and love.

Like any typical Asian mother, I would never go on holidays alone. For me holiday is family time and it is fun time.

Like any typical Asian mother, I would not accept a bad grade from my children and an A- is a bad grade!

Like any typical Asian mother, I have slept with my children till very late into their adolescence. And I have loved each hug ( and bug) that my children have given me at bed time.

We scream and we shout- we fight and we sing- but we do it together.

And most of all- WE PRAY TOGETHER!

We say simple things and we say profound things to each other. But importantly, we SAY things that we need to say.

We know that when we speak, we are heard. We are not talking to wax statues. We are talking to a family that cares. We MUSt have at least one ,eal together each weekday. We must also have all meals together each weekend.

WE must share our stories and our trials each day. We must also share our victories and our defeats when they happen.

Making time for those you love is not difficult at all!

Life happens.

Time flies.

The tighter we hold it in the palm of our hand, the faster the sand of time slips out.
We must learn to hold it softly, share more fully and love more freely.

When you freely and truly love, it is easy to say no to anything that may come in the way.

And- if you must write for the NaBloPoMo- you write when everybody is already playing with you in Slumberland! (hopefully)

So- here I am typing away, unknown word counts, trying to figure out if I will be able to upload anything at all, and my children are already in Slumberland playing with me and telling me stories. My husband is already there, too. He is giving them good company. I look at them and a smile lights up my face.

I do not have to make time for anyone! My time is their time till they want it. This, too shall change. And before that happens and I stand in some balcony and think back to my children's childhood, I want to live each moment as if it belongs only to them and to me- TOGETHER.

We do not just share a roof over our heads, we share the space that our heart beats define into the cacophony we sometimes drown ourselves in. Such is life. But it is a life where the landscape and the sound scape is mingled with our love and our smiles, with our time and our heartbeats.

This is a place that glows because we are open to receiving AND giving from and to each other.

I want to live  a life of no regrets- it is too short anyway!

Finally!!!

Finally!!!, originally uploaded by naturewalker.

This is the screen shot that shows Dyslexicon is my friend!
Yippee!!!
You see... Dyslexicon is my dear husband who has always maintained, much to my irritation, aggravation and frustration that he is no longer my friend! He can only be a husband- or a friend.
Now who is he to say that he is not my friend?! I am the one who decides who is my friend. He can say that I am not his friend but not that he is not.
But all that rests with the judgement of the one judge he just might accept! The Internet BABA!!
He is THE geek of the family, THE computer wizard, THE guy who has the responsibility to see all our 'individual machines are virus free and run smoothly all the time. He is also THE guy who made sure till some time in the past that all the machines went through a routine of clean up and defrag each week.
It went like clock-work.
It is not as if he cannot live without teh gizmos that he lives with- he has gone on treks ALONE when he has been unreachable by any means. No phone, no newspaper, no internet, no means of communication at all.
These have been his trips to 'get away from it all', and he comes back recharged with the conviction that he CAN battle the world on his own terms.
In the distant- very distant past, Cave Man retreated to caves and stayed there till he figured out things for himself. The Cave Woman was left to do all that she could. Things have not changed too much in a couple of millenia and more!
The Cave Man still disappears from teh world that is his battle-field and his play-ground. He still thinks alone, speaks little and walks a lot.
And the cave woman reas the family and tries to do whatever she can!
To be fair, this once he wanted me t go with him. I chickened out. I am not ready for it yet. I want to be close to my children. They had just finished their exams. It was time for them to have fun- how could I just FLY away- and not be available even for a little chat.
May be... somewhere in the future, when they grow up, and think they do not need me, I can make this trip with Sanjay. But till then... I love him, and I love them. He can and often does take care of himself. They want to be ith me and take as much caer of me as they want me to take care of tehm. I love it. I cherish eachmoment of love and belonging I share with them.
I do not need to climb any mountains outside- for now. I have enough thrill of climbing great ones with the children every day.
But... finally... An independent source up-loaded- that Dyslexicon aka Dr Sanjay Dhawan is my MY FRIEND!!!
Yippee!!

Love takes over!

I love you!

The words lose their meaning and their power in this world that runs on wheels all the time trying to catch its own tail.

We timed it... it takes less than ten seconds to say these three words. And it takes a world of faith and trust and vulnerability and everything else that goes to make this love a reality to say them.

We said it... and we said it after really waiting and examining whether this was the right thing to say. That was the first time. He wanted to hear it from me- and I was soooo afraid. Apprehensive that I was not safe, or was not sure.

Then... one fine morning- saying the words became irrelevant. It does not matter whether you say it or hear it. You must feel it and mean it. You could show it through your actions or even through your choices. And you could show it through a touch or a look. And you could keep it inside- a deeply hidden secret in the deepest corner of your heart because it is safe there.

Love is a sacred feeling. It needs validation- but only when it is young and unsure. It needs to be nurtured and looked after quite like a  new born baby. It needs to be soothed when hungry and quietened when irritated. It needs cuddling and holding. It needs talking and cooing. It needs everything a baby needs for emotional safety.

And then- it grows up. It blossoms into that safe place where it no longer needs anything from any one else. All that matters is that you love. It does not matter that the 'other' does not say it. It does not even matter if the 'other' does not mean it. It does not matter if the 'other' does not show it. Because NOW there IS No OTHER! Now the psychological and emotional fusion makes the physical irrelevant.

That is not to say you do not need it or even crave it. It does not mean that you do not want it or seek it. It only means that when you get it in return or sometimes unexpectedly, it feels like another experience of that first day that you fell in love... that it still lights up your insides into a warm glow and a hot fire. But that the absence of a physical gesture to show that love is not the absence of love.

Die-hard romantic. That's me.
Madly in love even after nearly twenty five years of having met the man I fell for.
And looking for my own survival in a world that does not allow too much love, or too much happiness, or too much warmth... or too much anything!

No regrets here. I would not change a thing in my life were I given the chance to live it again. I would not even change how much time I took to finally tell the man I love that I love him.

He does not say it often. But I know.
He often gets annoyed and irritated... But I know.
He has developed some solitary interests... But I know.
I know... And THAT is enough...

I write this for a young friend. A friend who starts her own journey in a few days. This may be a romantic view to a harsh world- but it is a wonderful place to be.

It will not always be easy. Sometimes you will want to fight fists and punches. Sometimes you might even wonder what you ever saw to decide to go ahead with THIS person. Sometimes you will be lonely... very lonely...

But at the end of the day, if you turn in the middle of the night and find yourself thanking God for all that HE has given you- the wonderful life that you live WITH the wonderful people that HE put there- it is enough.

If you find, in the middle of nowhere your thoughts drift to THIS person and you smile, safe in the glow that it is enough to love- it IS enough.

And it IS enough to ASK... To PESTER... and to FIGHT, too. After all you will not do it with THAT person walking on the road.

And I write this for an old friend. A friend who needs to find peace and needs to stop looking. All that we have in our life is there for a reason. And unless we understand that reason, it will keep coming back to us. Always.

And I write this for my children. If there is ONE thing they MUST learn in life, it is emotional resilience. It is the need to love freely and give freely. No one can bring any harm to someone who is true and honest. And in the end- it is emotions that make the world go round.

And I write this for someone who has helped me see it- through pain and tribulation, through fortitude and patience and through impatience and conflict- Love prevails.

Love prevails. And Love takes over.
In a place where nothing else matters.