August 22, 2021 ~ Sunday night
The house is quiet. I love it like this. There is nary a whisper or breeze outside … just the slight tick of a clock and the soft puff of breath from a slumbering lab … that I can hear. The dogs are all sleeping. The lamps are dimmed and there is a candle lit. There is a certain glow at this hour … soft and cozy. The house is completely still – as if a warm blanket has been draped upon us. It’s lovely.
It was another crazy/hectic/fur-filled week/end. I had 8 dogs for the last few days which entailed (no pun intended) a lot of dog meals and pats, cuddles and corralling, throwing of sticks and balls, cleaning up messes, and so much juggling between the big and small, young and old.
And as I sit here looking back on all of it, I feel so very grateful, once again, that I am living the life of Riley.
And then I get to wondering … who the heck is this Riley? And why do we think he has or had such a great life? Why do we aspire to have a life such as his? Why don’t we aspire to live the life of Gwendolyn, Arrabella or perhaps … Simon? Why this Riley fellow?
Apparently, the American idiom living the life of Riley first appeared in the early 1900s. Somewhere along the way, an urban myth of sorts began around a certain fabricated gentleman named Mr. Riley who lived a lovely and carefree lifestyle – free of any concerns. People who lived a life such as that – aka: the easy life – became known as those who were living the life of Riley.
So, yeah … I guess one could say I live such a life. And one could say that MOST of the people I know also do. Oh sure, we all have our woes … financial worries, some health concerns (ailments or even serious illnesses), loneliness, aging issues, family or relationship problems, heartbreak, etc … but very, very few of any of the people I know directly or indirectly know what a hard life is.
I know of three people who have lost homes to natural disasters. Three. They all survived those terrifying and trying ordeals. But, other than those women, I don’t know anyone whose home was ravaged by a forest fire … covered in lava … reduced to rubble by an earthquake … or washed away by a flood. I don’t know anyone who has had to leave their children unattended and take three buses to get to their second job just to try to make ends meet. I don’t know anyone who is beaten on a daily basis (or at all) or who worries about their safety. I don’t know anyone who is hungry. I don’t know anyone who has had to leave their home and the only country they’ve known, with a bag of their worldly possessions (if they are that fortunate to have even that), waiting for days – hoping to be evacuated to safety and a new life – anywhere – where they know no one nor speak the native language.
I watch TV and the images of Haiti are haunting – again. The ones of Afghanistan are gut wrenchingly heartbreaking. I can’t even imagine such hardship. I lead such an easy life.
And yet … I grumble. Oh, I had too many dogs this week. The weather is cool and cloudy – it sucks. The arthritis in my fingers is awful. My back hurts. Blah blah blah. What I need to remind myself is that I have the freedom and the means and the opportunity not to work for anyone else. I set my own hours. I do what I want/when I want/how I want. It is my business. Too many dogs? How can that ever even be a thing? The weather is cool and cloudy … so what! I’m not a farmer. My livelihood doesn’t rely on warmer or sunnier weather. I should be grateful I can be outside and enjoy it any time of day. I can come and go as I please. And if it’s cool, I can put on a sweater or coat. I have plenty. Luxuries to some. The next time I complain about the pain in my fingers – I need to remember that I have fingers. They enable me to communicate and write and type. I can brush my teeth and feed myself and pet all those too many dogs. I can fold warm laundry and scratch my own nose if it itches. So many are not that fortunate.
Yeah … whatever you want to call it … the life of Gwendolyn, Arrabella, Simon or Riley. I am certainly living the easy life. Most of us are.
Remember to count your blessings.