I remember standing in the kitchen making blueberry pancakes at 4:00 a.m. The gentle glow of the gas stove flame the only light in the room. That was 26 years ago when my eldest was in utero. Today she is a labor and delivery nurse in Rhode Island and my youngest is about to graduate college. I’m standing in my kitchen making blueberry pancakes. Today is the 5th anniversary of owning my little townhouse that backs to the woods that lead to the river. The river that I walked repeatedly while crying in the years leading up to, and through, my divorce. I often say that I don’t move quickly, but I do move. And today I realize standing here at my stove flipping this pancake, that I am proud of myself. I’m proud of this little house. I’m proud of the life that I have built for myself, contented as I am with my own company. I am proud of my daughters who have grown into beautiful women with bright futures. I know that I can do hard things and then I can get through the impossible. Not everyday is progressive. Not every day is measurable. But today is. As I lift and rotate the pan to even out the batter, I can see that everything has a way of working out. No matter where I live or what time it is, I can feed myself. And that sense of agency is worth the price of lawyers and child support and mortgage. I guess what I’m saying is, I’m every bit as grateful for the days that were hard to get through as the days like today when the sun is shining and I am celebrating myself because they all work together to create this beautiful, messy life. Even in my darkest days I can comfort myself, with pancakes made with fresh blueberries topped with a spoonful of Greek yogurt and a hit of maple syrup.