Every now and then you meet someone that stops you in your tracks. You look at their life and the trials and tribulations they continually endure day after day and realize just how completely blessed you are. My whole life has been one utopian existence after another. So the water spigot thingy doesn't work on my refrigerator and the carpet in my bedroom is still that ugly pale blue stuff, but I am not going to court this week to fight my ex-husband for my children. I will go home tonight and my husband will have dinner ready so I can eat it quickly and rush off to class (a class that I am not paying for, it is being funded by my incredible employer.) My happy, healthy children will pounce on me when I walk through the door and follow me around making nuisances of themselves until I leave for class. This weekend my dad, who completely adores and dotes on me will come to my house and hang on my every word while he putters around my house fixing things. I grew up among grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and a church family that practically worshiped me. My family doted on all the children born into it. Family gatherings were all about being together. I don't remember hurt feelings or confrontations or strife. We were happy. It was utopia. A co-worker posted a comic strip in her cube that says "A bad day is all about perspective." My interpretation of that is this - a good day for some would seem completely unbearable to me. A bad day for me would be, well utopia for someone else.
Today I am counting my blessings.
One by one.
Man they are adding up quickly.
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