By Lisa Huddleston

Okay.  I was getting on here to recant everything I wrote yesterday.  Who am I to splatter my feelings all over anyone’s computer screen?  Why should anyone want to hear my thoughts?  I was feeling sorry for myself and angry and a little hurt.  Even at 52, I find it so hard to take criticism.  (Can I get an amen?)  And after going back to read some of my older posts I realized that what I have to say really hasn’t changed as much as the format has.  Actually, I’ve been frighteningly consistent.  Life is tough.  I can laugh and cry at the same time.  And God is always good.

Soooooo … it’s a beautiful day.  I need to accept that I am not everyone’s cup of tea, but that’s okay.  I find myself thankful for the simple things.  My wonderful family.  My life-long pals.  My dog who finally got a good bath yesterday and no longer smells like turkey poop.  The petunias my mother is happily planting around the patio as I write.  The walk I plan to take with a good friend this afternoon.  And so on.  It’s a good life.

Probably, if I spent more time writing about those things, more people would be content to keep reading.  I know.  I’m a melancholy soul.  But I do love a sad movie or a wry book or a deep poem.  I just do.  And there are hard things in this beautiful world.  I can’t help feeling them, empathizing with both good and bad people, and crying over roadkill.

Inhale. Exhale. And today is a beautiful day!

(Last thought on this.  Promise.)