I'm So Lucky

I’m blessed with this one wonderful ritual nearly every morning; and during these first moments of almost every weekday, when I open my eyes as my oldest twin daughter, my loving, kind, third child brings me a cup of freshly brewed coffee in bed, I am blessed to start every day thinking: “wow, I am lucky”.

I really am, and I do so truly and consciously acknowledge my own good fortune every day; perhaps this makes me strange.

I’m not a financially rich woman; in fact, I’ve made some poor choices on this front. I’ve never won any major awards or accolades (yet, I hope). Never in my life have I had "the" wedding or surprise proposal or any romantic, grand gesture in love. I own no diamonds. I haven’t traveled the globe or discovered much of the world outside of Canada (& mostly west, really); I’ve yet to write a great novel or truly climb a career ladder or even learn to properly paint. And yet I am so blessed.

To start with, I won the lottery of being born in Canada, truly a bit of good fortune.

I’ve seen the northern lights in the middle of the night from the top of a mountain, while drinking warm beer from a can and laughing with friends.

I’ve cuddled my siblings in a warm bed with a roof over our heads, while reading Hans Christian Anderson fairytales into the night.

I’ve gotten slivers in my toes while skipping across lovely smelling cedar logjams on the Pacific Ocean.

I’ve laughed and sang and danced at barbeques and bonfires and parties and weddings, both opulent and modest.

I’ve walked on warm beaches and felt the spray of more than one ocean in my face and sang in more than one church choir.

I’ve been held frozen by magical sunsets and sunrises in the company of people I would do anything for, with very few pressing concerns in my heart.

I’ve gardened and canned and fished and butchered and other wise prepared nature’s nourishing gifts while in the company of lovely, knowledgeable and giving people.

I’ve drunk wine, dined and conversed with the absolute best.

I’ve brought babies into the world with heads of blonde hair, full lips and eyes resembling mine, healthy and perfect in every way I could hope for.

I’ve fallen asleep with those same babies lying on my chest, our breath becoming one as I rubbed their little naked backs. I’ve been privileged to watch them grow.

I’ve looked into the face of death, very briefly, on behalf of others and myself, laughed (not loudly) and lived to tell.

I’ve been touched by very little tragedy, disease or true loss.

More than once in my life, for however brief or long, I’ve been the romantic breath and life of someone of whom I held in the same esteem.

I’ve had moments of physical, emotional and even spiritual ecstasy.

I walk my neighbourhood without trepidation and smile into the faces of my neighbours, never fearing that they know who I am and what I truly think.

I have the best friends.

I still run with, talk with and share with all of my children.

In my forties I am healthy and very actively alive; an age I never feel compelled to lie about.

So far, my burdens have all been manageable, and very much eclipsed by friendship and love.

In a world filled with war, violence, freedoms & rights violations, injustice and natural disasters, my heart truly breaks and I feel privileged to be able to give, even if only a little, for physically, I remain untouched.

Sometimes, like everyone, I toss and turn as I worry about my bills and work and weight and … and then my daughter wakes me with the coffee. And I remember. I’m so lucky.