Happiness is turning forty.

It seems the past forty years happened very quickly, in the blink of an eye. Am I really "over the hill"? I don't feel it although I can tell I've gotten older. I'm just happy to be alive and to have time for myself on a fairly regular basis. I am happy to have a great man in my life who takes as much care for me as I do for him. I am happy that I didn't choose to pursue a career that would leave me drained of compassion and hope for my fellow man.

I'm happy I live on an island that has better weather than anywhere else I've ever lived. I'm happy that I've discovered gardening. I'm happy that although I'm not terribly wealthy or even well off and I still have to go to the food bank regularly, I can still live comfortably.

I'm happy I have the time to focus on my writing. I'm happy when I do write. I'm happy when I just take the time I need to read.

I'm happy I know myself well and I'm comfortable in my own skin, even though I know I can exercise more and eat healthier than I do. I'm happy that gardening has filled the gaps in my exercise routine. I'm happy that I have both my parents alive and that they still talk to me. What can I say, I love them despite my criticism of their methods and inexperience in raising me. Knowing we forgive each other of our faults makes me very happy.

I'm happy that my complaints do not out-shadow my happiness. I'm happy I have the presence of mind to love myself despite my complaints. I'm happy to imagine my complaints as lessons I need to learn about myself so that I can grow and become a better person for it. I'm happy I haven't figured out everything there is to know about life.

I'm happy my friends give me the space I need to be who I am today. Thank you all.