Pollyanna Lives

I have been blue. Over the last few weeks I have become more and more stressed about the economy, and whether I'd have a job once I got out of school, and whether we could afford college for the kids and retirement and whether the state would go bankrupt and stop paying Rob. You pick, if it was a financial worry, it was rattling around my brain.

But this morning before work I had a beautiful and easy run, the longest one I've done in weeks, and that helped. And then I wrapped presents, and thought about the recipients while I wrapped. When the gifts were all under the tree, I stepped back, hands on hips, and let out a happy sigh.

There's not much there this year, we were frugal and smart, even with all the bargains available. No credit card bills for us in January. But it looks like people who love each other live at my house. There are presents wrapped with a variety of expertise, and a continuum of handwriting competencies (mine is in the middle, Rob has the penmanship in our house). There's at least one item under that tree, I happen to know, that will make the package opener squeal, laugh or smile with delight. We didn't spend much, but we thought carefully, and that counts.

So I'm not blue any more. I'm happy, and optimistic that the future will hold more of this warm feeling of making do with less. I hope we continue to have jobs, I hope everyone who has lost one finds one soon. But as my father put it a few weeks ago, "It's likely that, down the road, we'll all look back on these next couple of years with some fondness."