why worry?

I took a brief hiatus from blogging on Bibi’s Beat. Time goes on.  Life happens. Seven years pass. We move, and are moved, in different directions. My biggest supporter and closest friend, my mother, died. As did several friends, four relatives. And my wonderful significant other, a magnificent hunk of male being.  The 2008 recession came and went … so they say. A couple of presidential races were won or lost, four close friends moved thousands of miles away, new friends came in, five new babies joined our family.  And my dog turned nine.

Supposing-a-tree-fell-down-pooh

I worried quite often during those seven years.  About mom.  About work. About others. About what I should or should not do. What I should or should not say.

But beyond that, I can’t recall the specifics of what, or when, or why.  Which tells me that all that worry changed nothing–other than deepening frown lines and adding a couple of grey hairs.  And who needs those!

So as I begin a new chapter in life where I vow to live worry free, I embrace the advice my grandfather shared when I was five years old.

“Why worry? You’re borrowing problems that may never happen,” he said. “You’re spoiling precious time … when you could be playing and laughing and having fun.”  I didn’t get it. “What were you worrying about five years ago?”

“Silly …” says I, he always asked trick questions. “I’m only five … how can I remember when I was nothing? I wasn’t born.”

He asked what I worried about five months ago, five weeks ago, five days ago.

You know the answer.  There was no answer.  I couldn’t remember.