The Best Years

We were only one glass of wine in, but I was already drunk. That didn't make what I said any less true. They were words spoken in earnest.

"I really do feel like I'm living one of the best years of my life," I told Court. (These are the kind of words that settle warmly somewhere deep in my chest. Yet when I say them out loud, it's always in a hushed, almost guilty tone. If there's wood to knock on nearby, that's even better.)

After a summer of uncertainty, a fall of frantic work and manic behaviour, and a winter that was punctuated by excessive caffeine consumption and a kind of loneliness that I've never known before, I'm finally hitting my stride.

Although I was tempted to follow through on "Year of the Marriage for Money" as my 2013 resolution, I inadvertently settled on a much simpler mantra: working, working out and working it out. I'm focused and driven in a way that I haven't been in months. I'm being good to my body; running, lifting weights and even taking the time to brush my hair (most days, anyway). Most importantly, I'm reflecting on how it is that I ended up here and what it is that I want next. I take comfort in going to bed alone every night and even greater comfort in time spent in the company of friends. This is somehow what I always thought my life would be like.

And last month, for the first time, I truly took advantage of the "freelance" part of my job description by relocating my office to Honduras for a week to visit Sophie. (More on this to come.)

None of it is easy. But I'm happy to wake up every morning, knowing that the best is yet to come.

(Raw photo by the lovely Nettika during a day spent in Prince Edward County reporting for a Toronto Star freelance assignment. Because yes, my life is so awesome that I can legitimately play with baby lambs and call it work. These are truly the best days of my life.)