At least…

January 19, 2013 § 4 Comments

The glass half full.One woman’s list of life’s modest victories and consolation prizes.

At least she’d dented the car door in the same place as last time.

At least the stain was in the back.

At least he hadn’t tattooed her name anywhere that showed when fully dressed.

At least the dog did it on the linoleum.

No way she was getting through this dry-eyed; at least she’d packed plenty of Kleenex.

At least he put the seat down.

At least she still had good legs.

At least the GPS got her back out of the bad neighborhood it got her into.

Two weeks past its pull date, at least the milk hadn’t curdled her coffee.

At least the back end was wagging.

Yes, she wanted fries with that–at least she hadn’t super-sized it.

At least the Mayans got the date wrong.

At least she’d outlived Martha.

At least he didn’t comb his hair over that bald spot. At least he still had his teeth.

At least they still called her on the holidays.

Note:  I began writing this looking for the small, often Pyrrhic victories particular to women, but I quickly began hearing an individual voice, that of a disappointed older woman; tough, stubborn and, although she’d be the last to  admit it, sad.

Does anyone else hear the insistent voices of vivid but imaginary people? Do any of you find yourselves walking off the path of your own life and into the weeds of someone else’s?

If this list were mine it would begin: At least this will make a good story.

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§ 4 Responses to At least…

  • Craig reeder says:

    As a performing musician in a highly competitive town chock full of musical talent, I am disappointed to hear a voice in my head that is mired in petty jealousy and misplaced egotism; it says things like “how come so-and-so is playing at the festival and my band was rejected?” I am ashamed of that voice. But that is not the real me. The real me is generous and humble. At least, that’s what the OTHER VOICE is saying.


    • The generous humble you is the one you wear on the outside. And I am grateful for the scrappy competitive you that keeps throwing Hot Tamale at the wall in the hope that we will stick; and the you that is outraged when,instead, we hit the dirt with a loud splat.


  • deb reilly says:

    “At least she kept her fat clothes.”
    “At least he didn’t steal from her.”
    “At least they died together.”

    “…and into the weeds of someone else’s.” Perfect!

    But don’t be so sure those nasty thoughts that sprout from disappointment are really all our own. When I get them, I laugh. Cause it sure as heck ain’t me.


  • ammaponders says:

    I hear that same “individual voice, that of a disappointed older woman; tough, stubborn and, although she’d be the last to admit it, sad.” It sounded ridiculous to me for many years, but, truly, youth is wasted on the young!


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