A Ring at Christmas

No, this is not a review for some deliciously cheesy holiday movie I’ve been watching. (Memo to Netflix: it’s Christmas, some of us would like to stream Die Hard!) Nor is it a declaration that I got engaged. Yeah, like that’s going to happen.

For my thirtieth birthday, one of my best friends gave me a little silver ring engraved with “Well behaved women rarely make history.” Since then, whenever I’ve needed to do something that required going outside my comfort zone, yelling a little louder, being a little more brash, I’ve worn it as a reminder. Who doesn’t want to make history?

This year, for Christmas, she got me another ring. This time it was engraved with “Live the life you have imagined.” I’m not sure if she’s trying to inspire me or simply telling me to stop bitching and just get on with it! Perhaps it’s both.

But she’s right. When I wanted to leave Jutland and go back to Copenhagen, I imagined the life I wanted. I pictured the apartment by the water (check), the afternoons in the city (check), the trips to the theatre (check), the dog (damn) and being home with my friends (double check). I read once that you need to imagine something before you can manifest it.

Pass me a notebook, I will try and take the ring’s advice. Time to imagine the life I want to live, so I can get on with living it.

Or I would if my son hadn’t just put it on and now can’t get it off.

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