A storm is brewing here on the east coast. Actually, it’s traveling north and east…or is it west? I have no clue. I don’t follow it, track it, open my weather app, listen to the news or even pay heed to the radio warnings that disturb my blaring car-riding music.
I’m that woman.
Last year, during our first real hurricane season back in North Carolina, we spent over $1200 in preparation and the kids were home for what felt like months (about a week) and we all hunkered down and ate St. Andre brie and drank wine and I might have lost my shit once and gave the children a moral lecture about what kind of person do you want to be that resulted in stone-faced silence.
But that was then.
The storm wasn’t anything to write home about in our neck of the woods, and the sheets of plywood were returned to Home Depot and that credit card bill hurt when all the brie and wine was consumed and we sobered up.
So this year, I don’t have the energy to rally hard and prep.
Instead, I’m at work. I’m wearing workout pants, though, because when it’s raining and the kids are off school, I feel a woman should be allowed to wear yoga pants to the office and sip water from her metal water bottle and feel slightly superior about eating the office chocolates because she has it in her mind to lift weights later.
Good intentions count, after all.
I’m rambling, so let me get to the good stuff.
I saw this quote the other day, and it struck me as particularly poignant for this moment in my life, as I’m in school and intentionally building a new future, after all those Army moves and as my children become teenagers and begin to feather their own nests (even if it’s in their minds and vis a vis Pinterest boards).
Man. The present we are constructing and the future of which we are dreaming. How often do those live in direct opposition of each other? How often does our now fail to align with what we hope our future will become? And why is it that we fail to recognize the connection between the two?
Because tomorrow is made up of todays.
I am always asking people to describe things in three adjectives. I am writing a series right now on the opioid crisis for the magazine, and I ask the people I’m interviewing this question often: Describe your life while you were using drugs in three adjectives?
Then I ask them: Describe your life in recovery in the same way.
The answers are always so powerful, those three little words, and each answer is unique to each person. Some people give me a three-word sentence. Some a little quip. Some three basic adjectives. One woman said: Pure living hell.
So what about that question for us?
If you could describe your future in three adjectives, what would they be? What would it (your future) be?
Isn’t it funny how personal three little words can be?
Happy Friday, everyone. I’m off to lift weights, drink a glass of wine and study my little heart out as the weekend (and winds) descend.