Before my mother Eileen died she had a weekend of absolute clarity and perceptiveness. Since she had had alzeihmers for over 2 years this was a surprise to us.
During that weekend she kept repeating that she was lucky “I’m so lucky” she said over and over again. I sighed and thought ‘yeah right’. Her beloved husband had died when she was still in her 50s. Her daughter was…well hmmm not up to expectations. She worked hard all her life. But she still felt lucky.
And I had this same feeling when I returned recently from my big overseas trip.
I stood in my garden and thought “I’m so lucky”.
It’s weird. I have spent a lot of my life believing I was too fat, too tall, too stupid, too mean hearted, too shy, too pushy, too….and now that it’s almost too late I realise what a fortunate life I have.
I mean I might have a disability I not intend to have but at least I don’t have to beg in the streets, sell rip-off Loius Vutton bags in Naples or pencils in New Delhi, work in a sweat shop in Bangkok or drag a rickshaw around Jakarta.
I can swan around the world. And yes I know a conversation about the profits of colonisation would be timely right now.
I have good friends and the ability to make more.
I won’t go on.
But I can see what she means now.