Have you ever had a moment when you thought — I used to do “fill in the blank” all the time, and I’ve gotten so far away from it, it feels foreign and as though that’s not really me anymore … but I want it to be me?

Yeah, I have those moments a lot.  Life being the roller coaster that it is, choosing this door instead of that door, setting certain goals that change how you make commitments in life  — so many things that create the journey taken to this point in time.   It’s actually kind of fascinating.

And then I’m here — remembering a time when getting home at night didn’t consist of pouring a large alcoholic beverage, pulling on comfy pants and turning on a favorite TV show or movie.  Thinking of the time before I took my current job, and my schedule changed every week and took no notice of whether it was the weekend or not (I can hear Maggie Smith’s Dowager Countess -during Downton Abbey’s first season- asking in a blankly perplexed voice “What is a week – end?”)

Now I find myself armed with my laptop, my Nook and Pandora, hoping to recapture some of the nights and afternoons of my mid-20s, when I felt creative, when I found a book more enticing than the TV.  And all I can think about is how life changes and grows and you can never be certain where it will lead you.

Two years ago I thought I’d run a marathon one day.  I hoped that I might marry my funny, handsome man.  I had no qualms about jumping in at the restaurant — carrying a tray, bussing a table, taking an order.  Two years ago I had a savings account for possible lasik or a breast reduction.

Six years ago I was living at home with my parents.  I had no savings accounts.  I’d known John for a little over six months and I was a complete and total emotional mess most of the time.  I’d gotten him Bruce Springsteen tickets for his birthday.  I’d just gotten my first legit event planning job.

Ten years ago, I was in the midst of finally moving away from State College.  I was a ‘professional’ server.  My car was stick shift.  I liked the wrong guys and had little to no self-esteem.  But I was still in touch with all my theatre peeps — and I miss them.  A lot.

Eighteen years ago I’d just moved to Wyomissing.  My brother and I took ‘joy rides’ around our new neighborhood and listened to Celine Dion (that was my choice and trust me, Dave doesn’t let me forget it).  I was right on the verge of meeting some of my longtime friends, learning all the responses to The Rocky Horror Picture Show, waiting my first table and singing my first true lead role in a musical.

And then I come back to now – I have a good job, the most perfect furry little girl named Lucy, a best friend and soul mate (puke puke, I know) who cherishes me, respects me, believes in me and takes care of me.  I live in a beautiful apartment.  I eat sushi at least once a week without it breaking the bank.  I have two last names.  I feel stable.  I also have MS.  Shit happens, right?

So that’s me, tonight.  I have Edith Piaf on.  I’m going to have sushi for dinner.  And I’m going to curl up with my puppy and my man and watch a movie.

And I’m a-okay with that.



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