How did I get here?
That was a question that came up frequently when I lived far from my home state of Michigan for sixteen years. With two kids in t0w, I followed a husband in his career path from state to state, working full time as a teacher and technical editor in my spare time.

Where am I? was an even more common question. (I still get lost on a regular basis.) My roots grew more shallow by the year in my young adulthood and my marriage eroded. I went from job to kid's activity to home in a joyless, endless progression. 

 

It took a couple midlife crises for me to realize what's important. Writing has helped me sort it all out. On paper, life not only makes more sense, but thinking about the past gives me reasons to be very grateful for my present life. I don't do it alone. Having God holding my hand makes my happiness possible.

Peace and blessings,

 

Betty

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At the Grand Canyon. Looks like its photographs.

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Charlie Beaton before he took his daughters fishing

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The youngest person in this family photo is my mother,

Margaret MacKay Beaton. Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia.

 

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Sisters in the sixties 

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Branching out in the seventies

Pack lightly. That's advise from Medusa.