I was watching Good Morning America this morning and the Spice Girls were on. Side note: Did anyone else think that Posh almost looks like she doesn't want to be there? They were talking with one of them (excuse me that I don't know the name because I am lax in my Spice Girls Nameology...but I know Posh) and she said that they were lucky. Lucky in their families, lives and their show. That their life, basically, is very charmed. I felt the familiar pangs of jealousy/sorrow again. I really was lucky. Super lucky. The kind of sick to your stomach lucky that rarely happenes. I remember looking at my wedding ring and thinking the mushy, gushy stuff like,"I belong to somebody..." I remember looking at his picture and thinking,"How did I get so lucky?" There is that word, lucky. Trying to tell oneself to be happy with that. With those 15 years of "luck" is hard to do. I am so very guilty of wanting more. Of realizing that I took that luck for granted and now it is gone. Replaced by jealousy, sometimes, over the luck of others. Replaced by the endless plodding of days. Days that I can't even get one thing done in. Days of memories that I try so hard to push to the back of the shelves of my mind because they aren't doing me any good right now. Walking downstairs and almost shading my eyes against the brightness that are the photographs on a board against the wall.
We were lucky.