I searched my memory for those golden moments that are supposed to signal turning points in one’s life and found none.
I didn’t ask for much. I wasn’t hoping or looking for stardom or any special place in the sun. I knew my place as a trusted, faithful companion. One to be counted on. One to be looked upon as a true friend.
Friends come and go and yet I’ve remained constant. That alone should give me some satisfaction. But it doesn’t.
And so I look at my life and I calmly resign myself. An average life. Not unique. Not outstanding. But true to my calling. True to the life of a corduroy jacket.