Everyday by Liz Flaherty

Okay, I'll admit it. I love the everydayness of my life.

The birds on the suet feeders outside my window, the squirrels and rabbits cavorting around the yard. I grieve a little when I look out there because my beloved cottonwood tree went down in the storms last week. She'd been on her last...trunk, I guess...for quite a while, but we wouldn't cut her down because she was the home to so many birds and squirrels and because I loved that she was part of my view. 

I enjoy my office. It's an unholy mess, because it's for both writing and sewing, and I don't do either one of those neatly. But it's my own space, waiting for me to make the 50-or-so-feet trek from the house to the French doors at the end of the detached garage. Although I acknowledge that the time will probably come for us to downsize and move closer to conveniences--we live in the country--I will, as Scarlett O'Hara taught us all, think about that tomorrow. 

In my office, carefully staged so you can't see the mess. 

I like the fact that we live back a short lane or a long driveway--whichever way you want to look at it. It's a major pain if there's a lot of wind in the snow come wintertime, but it's blissfully quiet back here no matter what season it is. While it took me quite a while to get used to the quiet that came with an empty nest, I've learned to like it. 

I used to resent certain words: average, mediocre, so-so. As a writer, I didn't like being described as okay or a solid C-plus. I wanted more. 

I think I've gotten over that. In truth, I hope I'm a good writer--at least a B!--but there really isn't anything wrong with okay. It's a little bit like when I figured out I was never going to be a leader because I lacked the skill set. But I'm a good and helpful follower. 

If I'd been the pageant type, I'd never have made the top ten or Miss Congeniality, but I'd have been nice. I'd have had a good time. I wouldn't have been mean. I'd have been your average, everyday contestant. 

When I look back over this post, other than shaking my head because it's all about me--I do way too much of that--I realize there is actually a point to it, albeit I think I reached it fairly clumsily. 

For some of us, everyday is enough. We don't need to be the best or the stars or the most at anything. Often, especially when we're younger, we'd like to be more. Better. But when we realize that we're good how we are, our lives are good how they are...well, it just doesn't get much better than that.  

In Syd's, Riley's, and Dinah's stories in the A New Season series, they are everyday women at turning points in their lives. I love how they get where they're going, and that they don't have to give up parts of themselves to get there.