The road not taken

Sometimes you do what you need to. To survive. To live to fight another day. To save your sanity. And it hurts. You can't be parted from your dreams without pain, otherwise they weren't really dreams.

I should have been at a conference this past weekend, leading a group of passionate, intelligent women, as they started a year-long quest to change the world. This was my year. My year without my husband. My year to make a difference. My last year with Alcott before he leaves for college. And I thought I'd lost all of that when I had to step down as Chair of the state public affairs committee. I mourned and wondered what I could possibly do to fill the void and make myself feel whole again.

And then, somewhere in the middle of the weekend, between taking the car in for her 60,000 mile check up and cleaning every inch of the floor in my house, I realized that there wasn't a void to be filled...that, in fact, the rest of my life finally has room to breathe and expand. I had too much crammed into too little space, and that caused so much craziness. I had confused being really busy with being really happy; I know better now.

So I won't be leading fabulous women this year, but they now have a leader who has time and energy to do the job properly. And I? I have time and space and love and life to live.