Responsibility or do I mean guilt? How I suffer for my mistakes. Regret. The I-shoulds or merely owning-up? I second guess myself a lot. I question my own motives and spend more time doubting myself than feeling confident I have done the right thing. I mean to be fair. I hope to be kind. Always. I move the tide-stranded crab back to water.

I feel I will pay for my mistakes. When I take a stand, a hard line that is not generous. When I say an unkind thing. When I do something I should not… I suffer for it. I should suffer for it. I believe this, I feel it. It would be nice to think my repentance is purposeful and effective, that it over-balances the original evil, but deep down I do not believe that. The balance is in my head. It is desire in my heart to be good. The desire is all there is.

I am fortunate and I am grateful for my good fortune.

Here I sit up in bed and think of my good fortune and the superstitious side of me knows I do not deserve so much, that my life is a gift I have not earned.

I am lucky. I have been lucky. I found Gary and hung on like my life depended on it—I knew he was good for me, and I was right about that. Lucky to have found him. Teaching is a profession I love and brought me great satisfaction and showed me how hard I could work. I value work and feared I was not up to the task of full time employment. I had worked my way through college part time, then full time teaching and discovered I could work twice that. Though I miss it, I am glad I discovered my passion in time to indulge it for forty years. When I was pregnant the first time, after trying for over a year, I knew that if I miscarried this was likely to happen in the early weeks. I was past that. I had reconciled myself to being childless, then to the possibility of losing my baby—not accepting the event that had not even happened, but understanding the possibility without freaking out about it. And then after three days of labor we had our firstborn and he was fine and I was fine. Our second too. Lucky.

There is a superstitious belief that if you worry about something in advance, it is less likely to happen. Foolish, I know, but habit too. In my forties I finally accepted that I would not have rheumatoid arthritis like my father. A fear averted. Sad things have happened, loss, tragedy even. I have taken these one at a time, dealt with them as best I could. I did what I could. I did not blame myself. “Everybody’s mother dies” my writing teacher said. No one escapes sorrow.

But the joys? Marriage, motherhood, profession, beautiful surroundings. How rich life has been! I will never breed Arabian horses or publish a novel or visit Hagia Sophia, but this water dragon swims.

I do not believe in fate or destiny or luck. Not really. I think astrology is silly and I am silly when I look at horoscopes because I do look. There is no telling what will come. I am not entitled to a thing. I do not believe I’ve earned this life or deserve it. My life is a random act of kindness.

I am grateful.

Thank you.