Cheryl Richardson's Blog

The last word

Every now and then, when I have an afternoon to myself, I enjoy watching an old movie. Yesterday, while scrolling through Netflix, I landed on “The Last Word” starring Shirley MacLaine. The movie is about a retired businesswoman, Harriett Lauler, who is controlling and quite unhappy, facing the end of her life. Wondering about the legacy she’ll leave behind (and wanting to control the narrative), she hires a local newspaper writer to craft an obituary. Tasked with interviewing friends, colleague...

The “Thank You” game (and a Thanksgiving Zoom)

This time of year always makes me think of my Dad. A big, burly guy who became quite a mush in his old age, my Dad loved to surprise people with little gifts of kindness, especially during the holidays. Sometimes he’d bring miniature Christmas trees to elderly clients who were home-bound and lonely. One time I saw him slip a $20 bill to the oil guy when he came to fill our tank during Thanksgiving week. My Dad was an accountant who offered his time and expertise to clients who were financially s...

Under the spell of love

Yesterday, I celebrated my birthday by giving myself the gift of presence. I woke to a sunny, winter cold day, enjoyed breakfast with a purring cat nestled in my lap, and spent time writing about the last year and my intentions for the next.

As words filled the page, I could feel myself sink into the moment and into a kind of alignment with life that felt good. From this peaceful, centered space, I wrote:

When I come here to write, to spend time with myself, to listen more deeply to what wants ...

Is your social media feed trying to tell you something?

Who is this woman slicing lemons and placing them in a fancy water pitcher as she prepares for a dinner party with friends? I laughed out loud at the thought as I set the table, adjusted the lighting, and placed fresh flowers on the island next to the serving area. Since when did I become a chef who likes to entertain?

I’ve been working for as long as I can remember. I started at sixteen selling Pendleton suits in a small boutique near our home, and later learned bookkeeping at a concrete compan...

The ritual of remembering

I opened the cabinet door, reached in, and pulled out the porcelain mug with a hand-painted hummingbird on its side. I miss you, Ileen, I said to myself as I unwrapped a teabag and placed it in the last gift she gave me before she died. Then, as the kettle warmed the water, I stared out the kitchen window and allowed my mind to meander through memories. Sunny mornings in my office drinking English tea and discussing the latest books we were reading. Looking up the symbolism of the animals that v...

Getting comfortable with the uncomfortable

The topic came up again, the third time in one week, so I knew to pay attention. “What exactly is a midlife crisis?” a colleague asked. “And does it always have to be difficult?”

When I look back on my midlife days (which, to me, were my early fifties), I have such compassion for the woman who felt unsettled. Really unsettled. I knew change was on the horizon because I was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with life. I was starting to realize what I no longer wanted (too much time away from hom...

An unexpected inheritance

I’ve just returned home from a 3-day getaway with my sisters in the Berkshires of Massachusetts where the autumn colors are in vibrant full bloom. On the morning of my departure, our cat Wednesday, recently diagnosed with asthma, had a coughing spell that made me nervous to leave. My husband assured me that he’d take good care of her and I knew I could trust him. Michael has a gift for transmitting comfort during difficult times. His energy can bring a boil to a simmer in seconds and I had no do...

The headline you want to hold on to

I stood up slowly, the remains of tea and breakfast balancing on a tray in my hands as I made my way to the kitchen. When I turned to straighten a pillow on the chair behind me, I spotted my cat Wednesday asleep on the ottoman by the window. I watched as the early sunlight rose across her face, illuminating the delicate veins that ran through her ears. She’s so precious, I thought to myself as I turned to leave the room.

Walking down the hall, I felt a subtle collapse of my chest. My heart open...

Something new from me and Louise Hay!

I still remember the elevator ride, butterflies doing somersaults in my chest, lips so dry my tongue felt like sandpaper. I wasn’t prepared. And I was always prepared. But this time was different. I was headed up to the Royal Suite at the InterContinental Hotel in Toronto to meet with Louise Hay. We were scheduled to discuss a book we’d write together about her life and our work, and we agreed to meet without an agenda. This is one of the things I loved most about Louise. She trusted Life. She k...

Aging as a Widening Path with Room for More Life

I woke with one cat curled around my left shoulder and the other pressed against the crook of my right leg. I felt the warmth of their bodies and the gentle pulsing of their breathing, and felt so grateful that I could simply lie there and take in the joy without needing to rush anywhere.

This got me thinking about what I love most about my wisdom years. I say “my” because I recognize that the wisdom years look different for everyone. Some of us live a hybrid life that allows us to work and play...