Each moment along the way, that is what's important. I used to think that the more choices I had the
luckier I would be. I let fate decide for me. I didn't want to be limited by decision making. I saved the hard decisions for later.
Eventually my framework, the few sticks I did put up, fell, with a gust, and I tumbled. My soul flitted with the wind, like a brown withered leaf. I lost my need to control. I lost my desire to succeed, to be the best. I just loved the work. I loved being tired, physically tired, at the end of the day. I loved not fearing last years numbers. Did I sell enough, was I good enough? The only ledger I compare with now are the smiles I see when I walk into a room. I know that the clients I help are happy to see me, glad that I am working today.
I wish that I could go on like this forever, but there is no money in care giving. Not the kind of money that a person of fifty needs to live. I have loved the last seven years, helping the developmentally disabled, but I know that I have to move on, now. I have learned to value the process of healing. I am ready to move forward towards a single goal. A simple goal, who's frame is strong and sturdy, and ready for the long haul.