My Story Continues

Another birthday has passed and here I am.  The story of my life continues.   

I am my father's and my mother's child; however, I am my own child, too.  It could almost be said that my life is a casserole of the past, present, and future. Although many of the "ingredients" of my being were contributed by nurture and nature, I am the author of how the story gets told. 

One of the interesting nuggets of this truth is that every day I get to write another paragraph or chapter of my story. In fact, the authorship has always been mine to control and manipulate into a happy story or a sad story or victim story or a victor story. 

Another nugget is the realization the line between fact and fiction can be as blurry as a rain-drenched window. My mind obsessively compels me to make sense out of the world around me and my experience within that world. As I interpret my experiences, I write another line in my story book. 

So, today I write the following:  I have a good life.  I have good family and friends.  I had a good day and I will have a good tomorrow.