I’m at the airport, with time on my hands, love in the bank, and cheese on my plate.
In no particular order…
I did not choose:
To lose my father in 2012
To be born a boy, October 1965
To lose my mother when I was just 18
The genetic sleight of hand that triggers my iritis
To be bullied at work, though maybe I invited it in?
For the wheel on my suitcase to break at the airport today
To be the father of an inspiring daughter, though I am so much better for her
The ability to detect pitch and tone so sensitively, without the ability to replicate it
I did not choose insecurity…………………………………………………………………………..or did I?
Carole and I chose each other, and I choose my own attitude. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
We don’t get to choose very often Snoopster, just to accept what we’re dealt and deal with it best we can, some deals are diamonds some need spades to dig you out of it. ????
Just remember not to choose the overnight train Doug! 🙂
Hi Doug
Thanks for sharing this – as always you open up my thinking with what appears to be a simple refrain, yet is filled with complexities and feelings.
The older we get, the more of the ‘I did not choose’ moments happen. How we choose to deal with these events is the real challenge.
I am very happy for you and Carole and for your ‘unchosen’ daughter.
Cheers
Al