This is a photograph of my mother, her now ubiquitous gin and tonic at her side. Gus swings in the background, his friend waiting his turn down the hill. Just out of the frame my brother-in-law grills
As I wander between conversations, I try to think about how to capture the feeling, the contentment, the happiness. I think about the reasons why I want to capture it, why I want to find my way to a computer to upload pictures and search for words. I think about the reasons why I started a blog, a word I still detest.
I've gotten better about not being jealous of people's things. I no longer spend hours coveting dresses and boots, bags and rugs and fancy rings. But I still get jealous of the lives other people lead, the fun I'm not having. I started a blog, in part, to remind myself that I am making the most of this life. I also started it as a way to keep myself accountable, a way to make sure that I keep making the most of it, that I don't get lazy and stop trying. Life is better when lived with intention. I have been lavished with blessing, but I also work to make it what I want and to appreciate what I have. And sometimes while I watch my mother sip and stare, I think that I have hit my mark.