Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree of Freedom .
I’m not ever quite content—and I’m not sure I want to be.
Content, to me, is synonymous with done, complete, nothing left to accomplish. I don’t ever want to be done with everything I can accomplish. To me, that’s death, and I’m not done until I die. I want to finish my very last task at the moment I keel over and not before.
But I do want to feel joy again. It’s the little joys that make life worth living. And I have felt joy many times in the past year and often do now, too. Little victories. Special friends. Enjoying life without being retired from it—or worse: resigned to it.
Mariah tells me I need to relax more. Yeah. I know. I need to drink more raspberry tea, she says. No chamomile, though. And more hot baths with lots of herbs. Sounds good to me.
“Love will find you soon,” she says. There’s a knowing in her eyes but she doesn’t elaborate.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” I tell her. “What was it? August? September? No one new and interesting showed up in my life at that time and worse, some of the more interesting people in my life left it then.”
She shrugs. “Love was supposed to have found you then. Maybe it did and you didn’t know.”
I laugh. “Isn’t knowing the point?” I’m not sure it is, but her assertion seems grossly unfair. If somebody loves me, well, sheesh, I’d like to be informed of it. I don’t mind secret loves but I do if it’s a secret from me.
“Things have shifted,” Mariah says. “The love that’s coming, well, let’s just say that there were some loose ends that weren’t tied up. His, not yours.” She doesn’t name him. “This is more about your transition though than his.”
“I’m still transitioning?” Good grief! When am I gonna get there? Oh…yeah. I don’t necessarily want to finish all my transitioning yet. I just want to get to the next step. One transition at a time. This step is a long one, though.
“You’re building your lives of abundance separately before you build a life together. But, honey, your significant other is coming. And soon. You’re almost done with getting your accounts balanced and you’re almost ready. Focus on that because you’ll want to spend some time with him when he comes, and that will be soon.”
“Soon is a four-letter word,” I say, laughing. It’s what people tell those of us with no patience to make us wait a little longer.
“You are loved,” she says.
I sober up. “I know. By the Gods.”
She starts to say something but smiles instead.
So I’ll keep transitioning, changing. I won’t be content just having a new man in my life. Or selling another novel. Or checking tasks off a list. But I will find joy in holding someone’s hand or seeing my words in print. Or knowing I’ve been useful and productive and made a difference.
I may not be content, but I’ll be satisfied.
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