Mediocre life

The photos are of special moments and stopping to see what is before me.

I came across an article on a mediocre life, which triggered thoughts about my own life.

Some might say I don't have a mediocre life. I am a published writer, published being the harder part.

I live and travel routinely in places that others may only dream of seeing some day. I've interviewed world leaders (who won't remember me from diddly damn). I've crusaded for causes that I hope will improve the lives of others.

There have been times in my own life, when I've barely had time to breathe. There were the years I was part of a team renovating a Boston brownstone, which was gray, going to grad school, working a demanding PR job and raising a daughter. Time to sleep was optional.

Never again.

It isn't age that has slowed me down.

I would substitute in that article the word simple for mediocre.

Simple means taking the time to enjoy small things, people, color, food, weather good and bad. It means not having to add things but to savour what I do have.

I've accomplished the three big goals of my life: having a daughter, living in Europe and being a writer.

It is a good thing that I never wanted to be rich, because I am not in terms of money. I am rich in having everything I want (well new Venetian blinds in Argeles would be nice to replace the broken ones). If anything, adding things that might need dusting or taking up what could be free space, makes me feel poorly, claustrophobic, etc. Worse having two of something when one will do, I shudder just to write this.

Although I love traveling and seeing or re-seeing places, my happiest days are when I am home. The mornings in bed with a cup of tea, a book and my husband are a joy. I use the word see, because see means looking and absorbing the little details, such as a little girl playing in the mud in Stuttgart. With each stomp of her booted foot, her smile expanded. She is probably a teen now and her puddle stomping days are over and she has no idea that a woman in another country remembers her. It means seeing a flower in a crack in the sidewalk.

Keeping life as simple as possible takes many routes.

In spring there are two trees, one by the ILO and one in Corsier that I can't wait to see bud. In France, the mimosa in bloom, so yellow that I almost need sunglasses, thrills me. My husband bringing me a bouquet of mimosa was equally joyful.

It is walking by La Noisette, spying a friend and sharing a cup of tea while catching up with the news or just feeling the sun on our faces and wondering how the sky could possibly be that blue.

It is watching Sherlock run zoomies at the reserve or dig at the sand at the beach.

It is feeling the cold when Rick opens the door to take the dog out.

The list goes on and on. Maybe because of the number of things that tickle my senses, my life is not so simple. I do know it is happy with the time to enjoy each moment I have been given.