Two Hundred Sixty-Three

The degree of success I enjoyed, relative to other people my age, once mattered to me. I used an external measure, a standard against which I might compare favorably or unfavorably; the variance, positive or negative, was my yardstick. In hindsight, that was such a dangerous thing to have done. I risked my happiness by looking outward at people who, very probably, were doing the very same thing I was doing. None of us even knew what success was, either. It might have been money, prestige, security; but it was none of those things. Success, for me, means being content in the moment, able to keep worries and insecurities about the future at bay.  That’s what it means at this very moment. And, at this instant, I feel absolutely successful.