“Take the train into the city, Mom.  It would be so much easier.”

“No,” I insisted.  “I like the independence of having my car.”

So, I arrived at my daughter’s Monday morning to find there were no parking spaces on her street.  I texted her to meet me outside.  It was close to lunch time, so I suggested we go for some lunch and then, hopefully, find a place for my car afterwards.  I parked near the restaurant, which was just blocks away from her home.

“I can leave my car here.”

“No, parking here is only one hour.  We’ll have to move it after lunch.”

We lingered on the patio, enjoying the day and catching up on each other’s lives.

After lunch, we drove around again, searching in vain.  I parked in the one hour zone again, hoping something would come up later.

We rested for a while, then drove the car to get some groceries from the store that was, also, just around the corner.  On our return, I found a spot across from their townhouse.

“I won’t want to move my car any time soon,”  I joked.

And, in fact, I didn’t.  My daughter’s home is situated in a trendy neighbourhood close to shops and restaurants – really anything you need is in walking distance.  My car, it turned out was just a burden.

My need for “independence”, on my terms, really only complicated things for me.

I wonder how many other routines or habits complicate my life.

Simplifying my life means being willing to let go of some of the beliefs that I cling to, and being open to another way of doing things.

Posted by

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.