It was perfect--times that laid out well enough that I could do good for a series of people, and locations and routes I could manage. (Hey, this college thing has turned me in to a practically perpetual road tripper. I am fearless. Sort of.)
But perfect is rarely how anything turns out. Perfect would be if One
Life to Live had never been cancelled. But wait. If One Life to Live had
never been cancelled, there are all sorts of people I never would have
met and jobs I never would have done and time I never would have been
able to spend with my kids. Perfect would be if my daughter had gotten
into every college to which she applied. But wait. If she had gotten
into every one, she would have been hard-pressed to choose among them.
Perfect would be if I had endless time for coffee with friends. But
wait. If I had endless time for coffee with friends, that would likely
mean that I was unemployed or underemployed, and that my friends maybe
So, while we may look for perfect a lot of the time, the imperfect that
we more often find may actually make us happier. At the very least, it
exposes us to challenges that make us stronger, and the real success that
can come to us when we are strong.
Today, the plan was perfect. And then it wasn't. And if it had been perfect, what would I be writing about, right about now...?