suddenly, my life is comfortable. bearable. when did this happen?

it was somewhere between Christmas and the new year. in fact, i think it happened at the house of Mr. and Mrs. Hanstedt, a 84-year old couple i had to interview for a piece. a couple seconds, mid-foyer, i realized i was an adult and that this was my life. i'm an intruder of sorts, while apparently portraying Barbie (it's the pink cheeks and hair, that's it). Mrs. Hanstedt scolded me for not wearing any socks (with heels?) and handed me a cup of coffee, black, which she knew based on our phone conversation days earlier. 

Mr. and Mrs. Coley, the other couple i was interviewing, was also there in the hallway to greet me. it was at that moment that i congratulated myself for having the career that i do - for loving people, their stories, and for finding a cluster of cities with people who enjoy having reporters ask them questions in their own house over coffee and cookies. 

about two hours later, i drove away with Mr. Coley waving from the front door. i had made new friends, serendipitously. later that day, i wrote them a thank you for their warm welcome and sharing their story. 

i walk through new stores,  a handful of old-favorite restaurants, banks, cafes, and i see the magazine on a rack. then, i go home and worry about how i'm going to tell the stories of all these people i meet. i worry about that more than i worry about how i'm going to pay my cable bill. i worry about it more than worrying about the opinions the people in my office have about me. but i've come to realize that i'm in good hands. i love my job, i love my tiny lake-side apartment, i love that i actually get along with my mom and that my parents are a ten minute drive away when i'm hungry for a wholesome dinner. i don't mind letting my 20s speak for themselves; i'll be the first to say that i never saw myself back in the town i grew up in. it's an odd twist on what i had originally dreamed up. i'm doing what i set out to do. to everyone who told me to "find something else in the meantime," implying that writing for a magazine was a hard goal to achieve in such a market -- i've proved myself. and for me, i'm happy.

now, back to writing the story of Mr. & Mrs. Handstedt.