Columns

Susan Howell  

On an early December morning, I awoke some 10,000 odd miles from my own backyard, to the unfamiliar sound of wild birds that filled the Australian sky as the sun rose on Manly Beach, a hustling coastal suburb in Sydney Australia. 

 Everyone who knows me understands that the time between Thanksgiving and New Year is my time. I relish the season for so many different reasons and actually anticipate it like a child.

By the time you read this, I will not be a millionaire. I did not win the Powerball–again.
But then again, I never bought a ticket. This time or ever.
I know. I know. You can’t win if you don’t play. It never occurs to me to buy a ticket–not even when the jackpot is half a billion dollars.
What does occur to me is how I would spend that money. I daydream about it. Often.
A few minutes ago while I was on break, I drifted off into that place where life is idyllic, I’m a size 10 and I am the Powerball winner.

I enjoy lively, spirited conversation. And in order to enjoy that, I have to like being around people.
No doubt in anyone’s mind, I am a people-person. I  come by it naturally because everyone–and I mean everyone–on my father’s side of the family was blessed with the gift of gab.
At family gatherings it was difficult at the end of the day to figure out just what you may have gleaned from each other because topics were loud, broad and scattered.