From Around The World

Every messaging system on my devices has its own noise.

As I climbed downstairs to make coffee, I heard the high-pitched ping of Facebook Messenger from the phone which I carry everywhere in my house ever since that grim, hysterical sojourn on the floor of the basement.  I glance down at the red LG3 and see a line of text from Paula Caplan, a former client turned friend who has flown to Israel.

In a few exchanges we establish that she has overcome the sudden blow of being laid off from her job in Florida after seventeen years, and has embraced a new life practicing her religion and living among other devout Jews.  I have come home, she messages.  Don’t get me wrong, I was devastated when I lost my job.  I felt like used Kleenex, thrown away because they didn’t need me anymore.  I told her I understood, all too well, the concept of feeling as though you have been tossed aside for a younger, easier, better version.

But she’s taking a chance;  a genuine leap of faith.  Closed door, open window, I reply.

She tells me Happy Purim and signs off, just about the time that my kettle starts to steam.

Yesterday a friend quizzed me on my level of hopefulness.  He had read an article in the Wall Street Journal about the physical effects of being a hopeful person.  My score showed that I’m high-normal.  I didn’t score at the very top.  I couldn’t commit to absolute belief in the potential accomplishment of my dreams, or unfailing ability to seek support from others.  I got 12 out of 15.  I can live with that.

It’s the twenty-fourth day of the twenty-seventh month of My Year Without Complaining.  I’m hoping for the best.  I haven’t yet experienced the worst, but I’ve fallen fairly low over the last two years.  I’m on the uphill climb.  I rest each time I reach a plateau.  But then, I start climbing again.  Life continues.

One of the sights that Paula photographed in Israel today.

One of the sights that Paula photographed in Israel today.

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