When

I had a good, busy and productive day. I wrote two stories, and then, at about 3 o'clock, I took Abby to the park. I felt good - really good. Work was done for Monday and I had only two more work days this week to think about, neither as frantic as last week.

On Thursday I am going up to Mt. Washington to X-country ski for the first time in my life! Exciting! I like trying new things! And then I will garden and hike on the weekend and all is good.

And then I thought, well, what on earth are you going to write in your blog today? That you wrote an article about a financial services company and one about a car dealership? Your life is so dull - it's hardly worth the effort to record it.

But I'm happy, I argued. I'm thoroughly content. And that's when it hit me. This is my life. At what point, does this become enough? At what point do we stop wanting to make our mark? Make a difference? Leave a legacy? At what point do we realize, "This is all there is - this is my small and insignificant life?"

Or do we ever get to that point? Will I ever get to that point? I know that if I were to die tomorrow, what would sadden me most is missing the small beauties of nature - never to see a cherry tree bud again - that would be sad. Never to feel my dog's breath on my face again - that would break my heart.

But I wonder - is there still something big left for me to do? Or will I simply continue to love this simple life?

I don't know.