No Complaints

Some questions are simple, others not so. The other day, someone asked me how I was doing, and it was a challenge or accusation; “top this if you can! But you can’t!”

They were doing great, and I was being dared to devise activities that were on par. They had just returned from a Las Vegas vacation for a convention. After four hours of cleaning the yard, I had just changed from grubby pants. I felt like telling them the truth that Vegas didn’t enchant me; it just wasn’t my sort of happy place. But it would have sounded more like a whine. So I just smiled.
So how the heck am I doing? I revel every day that the new hip is getting stronger and that I can spend part of the day doing heavy physical activity. I am grateful to see another spring, plan the garden, plant seeds, and play with the dog outside.
I’m in a sort of perfectible space where there are things I’d like to do, but I have to admit to myself that what I have is pretty nice. After many years I understand the canny look that’d come over a much older friend’s face when I asked him how he was doing, and he’d respond, ” I’m not going to complain.”

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