One by one I check in with friends about my move. I write cheery little notes about change & planning. I tell them about packing the car, securing flapping straps. I mention my Angel Frog – a back pocket companion, a leftover cat toy that crows “rib-it, rib-it, rib-it” with every speed bump or left turn. (Somehow I know it won’t drive me crazy on the trip as I think of it as my cheering section. It’s already fading out, alas.)

My friend K tells me she is melancholy & cannot shake it. My friend G tells a tale of unexpected & furious disappointment via betrayal of trust. My friend B lists a 3″ text of unexpected diagnoses resulting from a quick physical checkup. My friend L is dying of pulmonary fibrosis, a shuddering-awful passing.

Each renders me more determined to make this trip West. I move to a town in throes of change after decades of unimprovement & slow fade, of City Commissioners quarreling over their lack of civic money for the long-neglected fixes needed to bring it into the 1960’s, let alone the 21st Century. Each with a Special Interest Drum to beat.

I’m going there to be happy. It’s the only reason to go anywhere, would you not agree?

What makes me different … outlook? mindset? presence? a preference for clown clothes? insomnia?

I just am. How fortunate for me!

The formula for the life I live works for me. To list things might be considered a brag. I know my worth in realtime, so, no need for any detail.

I appreciate. I share. I laugh a lot as life is more like Laugh-In than Forensic Files. Little has power enough to affect me for very long. I feel as tho my ‘bad times/sad times’ have just fizzled out from trying to keep up.

Once I read an exchange:

“You’re a real Pollyanna!”

“So? Pollyanna led a very happy life!”

Sounds like a mantra to me…