Being content is a full-time job. One would think being content would be easy, but I have found it difficult at times. I find myself wishing, wanting and dreaming of what I want to do, where I want to go or what I want to buy.
As I get older, my ideas of contentment seem to change a little. Lately I am content if I get up and don't have too many aches and pains to start my day.
A friend was complaining about her aches she had each morning when she gets out of bed. I told her I did not mind the aches and pains because they let me know I had made it through another night.
I have come to the conclusion I will have an ache or pain somewhere for as many years as I have left.
When I was younger I thought the grass was always greener on the other side, but it did not take me long to discover the grass is about the same everywhere.
I had a woman (not from here) ask me why anyone chooses to live in such a flat country with so little to do. The first thought coming to my mind was to take offense. Then I thought about the question and decided I live here because "it is home."
Home is where the heart is, and I guess once we put down our roots they go deep.
I really couldn't fault her, because I remember at the age of 11 when my parents returned to Manila it took me awhile to feel at home.
I've done a little wandering in my lifetime, lived for a very short time in Texas, came home to Arkansas, moved back to Illinois where I spent my early years, but as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz said, “There is no place like home,” and during my brief wanderings, I discovered northeast Arkansas had become my home.
I lost my wanderlust as far as wanting to make a permanent move, but I still enjoy a road trip from time to time.
There are many places I still want to see, so I hope I can stay healthy enough to make a few more trips before staying home looks better than going. Every year I can feel myself leaning more toward becoming a homebody.
I recently told my husband, I am getting ready to go somewhere besides the doctors' offices or the grocery store. It seems those are my new frequently visited places.
I do like to travel and see new places, but I am content to come home. I love Buffalo Island and its people. Most people who grew up here still call it home no matter how many miles away life has taken them.
Like I said, those roots go deep. I am hoping my classmates will get together for a 50 year reunion soon. The 50 year milestone is passing fast.
I stopped by our old high school (Tipton Hall) last week and watched for a few minutes as the work began tearing it down. Yes, it has to go to make room for the new. The building will go down but the memories will remain forever.