Maybe the difference is that one is looking to be entertained, and the other is trying to be a part of the experience. It’s not a judgement, but for me, I choose the latter. I want to be an explorer of my life, not a tourist. 

It’s so easy to slip into the same routines. So I make even the smallest of changes. I walk a different path. Climb a different hill. Choose a new sugar cookie recipe. Read a book in a different room of the house.

I was just a young girl on a long winter Sunday afternoon when she said it. There weren’t many options in our small apartment. But there was still room for dreaming. My mother said, “If I had a big house, I would use every room. I’d take my book from nook to nook and let the words out.” Oh, yes, I thought! Such luxury. We wiggled our stockinged feet, as if to make the wish. I can’t say it’s why I have that luxury now, but I can’t say that it isn’t. So I tuck my book under my arm and rest in the sewing room. Exploring these new words in this new room, and I am a part of it all. I am alive.

Sometimes I falter, and wonder what the day will bring. But then I catch myself and think, “What will I bring to the day?” I wiggle my toes, and walk out the morning door.