3/06/2004 02:10:00 PM

Halley points to dervala's poetic musings on life to this moment:

(It is very hard to write about this without sounding painfully earnest and possibly sick-making.)

I had the time to grieve a husband who is still dear to me, and to count the million billion mistakes I made.

I learned how to be by myself, and see for myself.

I learned how to sit still. I am bad at it.

I made friends from different lives. There are so many fine people out there.

I discovered how little I need to live happily. Fancy dinners and toys are no longer on the list. Nor is running water, if the lake is clean.

I learned how to pretend to be brave, which is nearly as good as courage.

I saw different ways of bringing up children, and I hope to make bolder mothering mistakes than indoor, anxious cossetting.

I visited old and new friends on two continents, and atoned for years of putting office work before them.

I fell in love.

I made up with Ireland. Now I have a place to miss, and go back to.

I had the time to read hard books.

I started to pay attention to politics and freedom.

I lost my puppyish infatuation with America. (But I still heart New York.)

I learned to be an ounce less than completely selfish. (Occasionally. When it suits me.)

I got to know my parents as an adult. I finally grasped that their lives as teachers are more valuable than any CEO’s.

I made memories of Lake Superior that that will feed me when I’m old.

I felt, first-hand, compassion, grief, love, outrage, anger, and gratitude.

I got the chance to write.

I faced some fears.

I found I had an untold number of assumptions and prejudices. Many more lurk, still invisible to me.

I learned how to trust people to be kind. They mostly are.

I learned that atoms trump bits. Nothing beats face-to-face contact, which is why babies don’t IM.

I accepted that I’ll never be wealthy. It still scares me, especially in America.

I earned some crows’ feet, and the conviction not to Botox them.

Somewhere along the way I woke up as a grown woman.

I want to find a way be a net contributor.

And oh, I will miss my freedom dreadfully. I will miss the space to read and write and think and talk. But we’re over Newfoundland, and a new life waits.