Making a life

A few weeks ago, I moved. Well, my daughter and I moved. We moved out of the "family home" and into a trailer. Yes, a trailer, as in "mobile home." We live in a trailer park. Oy.

How we got here is a story for another time, which I will rant and rave about when I am good and angry. Right now, I am too tired. I am tired from working my regular job (my consignment shop), moving bags and piles of "stuff" (do I really need all this?), cleaning, painting, fixing the new place.

I refer to our new home as "88" (the house number) because I do not like to call it a "trailer." Why, I wonder to myself? Is it the stigma of the trailer park? Yes, I guess it is. I like to think of myself as a humble person. On a conscious level, I do not think of myself as better than anyone else. But... (there's always a "but," isn't there?) I guess I just feel like, at 44-years-old, after 11 years of marriage, 12 years of recovery from addiction, a soon-to-be second-grader, and a life-time of "working," I should have more to show for my life and my struggles.

Which brings me to the next question: What, precisely, should I "have?" Hmmm. More money? A "happy marriage?" A real house, not a trailer? A car that's not older than the original "Karate Kid?" Leisure time? Vacations?

I don't know what i should have, by anyone else's standards, but when I look at what I do have, I see I am one of the most fortunate people I know. I am rich in family and friends. I still have both my parents, and they are both in good health. I have aunts and sisters and girlfriends I can call for anything, at any time, and they are there for me. My young daughter is happy, healthy, bright and loving. I am not hungry, homeless or high.

I have peace in my heart. And that, in the end, is everything.