What I Want from Life by Debra H. Goldstein
Do you ever wonder what you want from life?
Lately, I’ve been in a pensive mood, giving that question a bit of thought. Don’t worry, I’m not thinking about death or aging, but simply being selfish about my own desires. The topic doesn’t require me to delve into the meaning of life, only what I want from it.
When I started brainstorming a response, I immediately blurted out: “I want my family to be happy, healthy, and prosperous.” My second answer, after listening to our present political catfights and catching a re-run of Miss Congeniality was “World Peace.” Both were nice comments, but neither addressed the specificity of the question.
So, taking my wishes for my family and the world out of the equation – what do I want?
A successful career? I think that one has been satisfied between my legal career and now following my passion to write, but then again, I don’t write every day and I haven’t made the New York Times bestseller list. Admittedly, there is room for this goal to be expanded upon, but I’m pretty content knowing two novels, Should Have Played Poker and Maze in Blue, as well as eighteen short stories have been published in the past few years, and that the challenge of making the bigtime is just over the horizon. After all, recently, the mail brought a check for my first sale to Alfred Hitchcock Murder Magazine.
A break to veg and read? There could always be more time for reading, but according to my Goodreads Challenge tally, I’m ahead of my projected reading schedule. This week alone, I’ve already knocked out Dark Money, the new Harry Potter book/script, and my backlog of periodicals.
Talent without envy of others? I’m still at the bottom of the learning curve, but there are so many gifted writers out there. What my friend, TK Thorne, can do with a phrase or an image constantly stops me in my tracks and shows me how elementary my skills are. Yet, whether it be from TK, Linda Rodriguez, or so many others who have been generous with their time, advice, and patience, I can’t even verbalize how much I’ve gained as a writer and a person. So, yes, I envy their talents, but appreciate them too much for there to be more than a mild form of jealousy.
Happiness? I’ve had my share and it continues to come my way.
Friends? I’m blessed in that department, too. I hope all know, even when I’m oblivious or overbooked, they are my lifelines, support, and cheerleaders --- and that it is reciprocal (even if you have to make me stop long enough to sense a need).
So, what do I want out of life? Probably nothing more than I’ve been given, except maybe