Contentment

I’ve written about feeling content in the past. I went through a few years when I totally forgot what content felt like. I remember emailing my dear friend Dawn in Michigan and asking her on the whole how did she feel about her life. And she said CONTENT.

Contentment has a quiet knowing smile. It goes easily from her mouth to her startling gray eyes. Her forehead is smooth and her cheeks have a soft pink blush. Her hands are soft, her fingers long and slender and strong, she plays the harp and hums. She is always humming, sometimes softly, sometimes with a wide open joy that is totally contagious. She wears softly flowing clothes of gentle colours: blues, soft greens, gentle lavender and sometimes white. She walks like her feet are not touching the ground and she is often found in the garden or walking on the beach, searching for wildflowers in the woods or chasing butterflies. She likes to sit at her desk and write, sipping scotch, snacking on feta and spinach spanakopita and enjoying the opera in the background. Contentment knows her place. She knows when it is time to be present and she knows when to leave. She always knows she will be back but she never knows how long she will be gone.

Do you know her? Would you recognize her if she crept up on you silently and didn’t nudge you? Or does she have to blast you between your eyes?! Do you remember her? Have you every met her? Would you welcome her if she asked to be a guest? Contentment wants you. Do you know that?

When I do recognize her, I feel at peace. I feel I have come home. I am no longer afraid and I find I can problem solve and I know who to ask for help when I need it. I am still a woman of an advanced age. I still want companionship. I still hope for even more richness, adventure, and good surprises. But in the meantime, I am content. That makes it all worth while. I am grateful for life.

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