As we know, sometimes accidents are more educational, more salutary, than anything determined. Such was the case with the e-mail in-box last week.
I received the following message, in its entirety, from one of my dearest friends, a talented painter and ebullient soul:
It isn't all so bad, I know. I am living my dream really. I just want to be paid better.
Turns out she meant it to go to another friend, with whom she'd been having a discussion about how to manage the frustrations of a hopelessly busy family life while worrying about how to keep the finances upright.
I shot back my response, before I knew I needn't have. And I found myself saying something I had no idea I actually thought. But now I know I believe it, with all my heart.
No, it isn't. And in fact I'm beginning to realize that low pay IS the trade-off for living the life of one's dreams.
And I'm also starting to feel lucky that I do not in fact make a lot of money. It has a tendency to ruin lives.
Yes, we have it good, both of us. Beautiful children we love, the occasional laugh and hug, and cocktails.
No woman ever had more.
In Line, Lynn McCarty
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