How do You Measure a Life?
I celebrated another birthday on 18 September. Subtly, quietly I celebrated without the fanfare that had always marked the previous years. I embraced the passing of another year contented with the decisions I have made with my life and with the acknowledgement that I may not be able to stop the sand of time from trickling down my hourglass but that I have the power to enjoy the journey to my sunset. It was milestone celebrated with brunches, lunches, dinners and a surprise barbeque party. It came as a card from Nicole with an early celebration of my Europe trip and with flowers unexpectedly delivered at work – stargazers whose fragrance will forever remind me of a daughter’s love. It came as three dozen red roses and a quiet dinner amidst candlelight. It came as numerous greetings from people who did not have to be reminded. They just knew.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure -- measure a year?
How had time had passed so quickly? My sunsets have weaved the days to weeks and months and eventually into the passing seasons. The seasons have segued from winter to spring to summer and so suddenly, it is autumn once more – brisk mornings that forewarn colder mornings to come as another winter draws near. Each second is marked by a step toward a destiny uncertain but yet already determined. Sometimes I wonder if I am deceiving myself in believing that I am in charge of my future.
How do you measure a year in the life?
I would gauge this year with my acknowledgement of what I am and what I cannot be. I will never be a child again but I can still see my world with the curiosity and the fascination of one so that my heart will forever be young. I can never go back in time and be the 18 year old debutante but I can still laugh out loud when I am happy, be flirty and be bold with my decisions as I had always been. My limbs and my bones have seen me through the tough times but now I can run or jog and play tennis better than any other time in my life. I have also acknowledged that I will never be a dress size zero, have legs like Anna Kournikova or the memoryI used to enjoy. Yet I realized that I can be happy just being who I am if I stopped trying to please the whole world and just gave up struggling to be to be the perfect anybody to anyone. And I have realized that with age come the wisdom that I will be accepted and be loved just as I am.
How about love?
Measure in love
Seasons of love
Love is the most important part of my life. I thrive with it and I constantly need to be assured that it is there, unrelenting. I need to always hear the voices of the people who matter most to me – my parents, my daughter, my siblings. I find comfort in the childish giggles of Gabrielle as she reminds me that: "I miss you Tita Mavic". These bring me home wherever I am. Home is where there is love and acceptance without question.
This is the year I learned that there is true love, that it survives time and distance. I have learned that true love isn’t always about the dashing young prince sweeping me off my feet in a fairytale love story. I have learned that true love is about my prince who has come to climb my tower to rescue me from myself. I have learned that there are happily ever afters – if you will only stay long enough for the real ending.
Five hundrend twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundrend twenty five thousand journeys to plan
Five hundrend twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
how do you measure the life of a woman (or a man)
Lyrics taken from the song: Seasons of Love
From the Broadway play 'RENT'
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure -- measure a year?
How had time had passed so quickly? My sunsets have weaved the days to weeks and months and eventually into the passing seasons. The seasons have segued from winter to spring to summer and so suddenly, it is autumn once more – brisk mornings that forewarn colder mornings to come as another winter draws near. Each second is marked by a step toward a destiny uncertain but yet already determined. Sometimes I wonder if I am deceiving myself in believing that I am in charge of my future.
How do you measure a year in the life?
I would gauge this year with my acknowledgement of what I am and what I cannot be. I will never be a child again but I can still see my world with the curiosity and the fascination of one so that my heart will forever be young. I can never go back in time and be the 18 year old debutante but I can still laugh out loud when I am happy, be flirty and be bold with my decisions as I had always been. My limbs and my bones have seen me through the tough times but now I can run or jog and play tennis better than any other time in my life. I have also acknowledged that I will never be a dress size zero, have legs like Anna Kournikova or the memoryI used to enjoy. Yet I realized that I can be happy just being who I am if I stopped trying to please the whole world and just gave up struggling to be to be the perfect anybody to anyone. And I have realized that with age come the wisdom that I will be accepted and be loved just as I am.
How about love?
Measure in love
Seasons of love
Love is the most important part of my life. I thrive with it and I constantly need to be assured that it is there, unrelenting. I need to always hear the voices of the people who matter most to me – my parents, my daughter, my siblings. I find comfort in the childish giggles of Gabrielle as she reminds me that: "I miss you Tita Mavic". These bring me home wherever I am. Home is where there is love and acceptance without question.
This is the year I learned that there is true love, that it survives time and distance. I have learned that true love isn’t always about the dashing young prince sweeping me off my feet in a fairytale love story. I have learned that true love is about my prince who has come to climb my tower to rescue me from myself. I have learned that there are happily ever afters – if you will only stay long enough for the real ending.
Five hundrend twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundrend twenty five thousand journeys to plan
Five hundrend twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
how do you measure the life of a woman (or a man)
Lyrics taken from the song: Seasons of Love
From the Broadway play 'RENT'