A wee bit of BS

For most of my adult life I have always striven  for contentment. Not happiness. Not having enough. Not being more. But being content. Being satisfied with what I have, who I am, and where life has me. This has not always been easy. There have been many days when happiness seemed so far away I could not even imagine it. I did not have enough for all the bills needing to be paid. I did not have enough energy to help others as I wanted to. I had times when I have desperately wanted to be more than I am, better than I am, kinder, more patient, more compassionate, in better shape, better at remembering things, a better sister/daughter/aunt/cousin/friend.  Actually, as I sit here typing I am amazed I have had any moments of contentment. Yet I have. I do. Even now. I am sitting here at my little desk tucked in the corner of my dining room. My VERY small laundry room is right behind me with the gentle hum of the dryer. I am content. I have no dirty dishes in my kitchen sink....