By PATTIE MIHALIK

newsgirl@comcast.netI read about an interesting assignment author Elizabeth Berg gave a writing class she was teaching.It was only three words: Who are you?I decided I'm going to use that exercise the next time our writer's group asks me to lead a writing workshop.Then I decided to do the exercise myself to see if it's silly or satisfying.Sitting at my computer, I'm surprised at the words that come. I don't even know I have thoughts like that until I write them. I think writers often find that's true.I'm surprised when I start by saying who I am not.Who am I?I am not the older woman doctors see.Why does a doctor always check a patient's age before he reads the medical history? Then he judges and supposes.When a doctor sees me for the first time, he sees an older woman who most likely knits and spends her time in front of a TV set.I know from experience that he sure as heck doesn't see an outdoor woman who thrives on being physically active. He sees age. Just a number that should tell him next to nothing.OK, then who am I? I am the young girl who thrills to the sound of the sea and can't move away from the mesmerizing sight of the crashing waves. My brother is impatient to leave so he can try the rides on the pier. But I stay by the sea because I know it will be the most magnificent sight I see at the shore.I am the youngster who loves bobbing in a little aluminum fishing boat with my beloved father. I value our long, leisurely conversations as much as I do fishing.I'm the kid who looks all around this magnificent world and knows there has to be a God who created all that beauty and splendor.I'm the kid who is fascinated by clouds, by bugs and by everything in the great outdoors. I go out exploring each day and never come back home until Mom calls me for dinner.I'm the awkward teenager at a school dance, hiding in the bathroom because I'm too scared to dance with boys. It would be easier to admit I don't know how to dance but I'm not smart enough to know that back then.I'm the high school sophomore who is bold enough and lucky enough to get hired to write a newspaper column before I'm even old enough to drive.I'm the high school graduate who is so excited to get hired as a full-time reporter/columnist. Dressed in high heels, hat and gloves, (the "ladies" uniform of that decade) I run all the way home when the publisher tells me I have the job.I'm the young adult whose favorite fragrance is the smell of newspaper ink and whose favorite sound is the rhythmic rumble of the printing press.I'm the newspaper writer who thinks it's a privilege to be able to interview people and write about their lives. In more than 40 years of doing that, I never lose my awe of the interviewing/writing process and I never lose sight of the privilege it is to be allowed into people's lives.I'm the young bride who learns to cook with a small cookbook then discovers a lifelong passion for experimenting in the kitchen.I'm the new mother who looks at my firstborn and learns the true meaning of the word "awe."I'm the mother of a second baby, a colic child who cries day and night and won't be soothed by anything.I'm the woman who walks away from a career to stay home with my children, knowing there is no reward greater than the love of a child.I'm the writer who finds her way home again when the kids are in school and involved in their own world. "Home" in this case is the newspaper office I can never call work because it's too much fun being there.I'm the woman who suddenly has an empty nest when my daughters both leave for college.I'm the one who sounds positive and perky on the phone so they won't know how much I miss life with them.I'm the widow who works hard to find new interests when my world is turned upside down after my husband's death.I'm the one who said she would never retire until the Land of Perpetual Sunshine lures me to Florida.I'm the little kid having fun every day living a second childhood. I'm the grateful one who says thank you to God many times a day for bringing me to this time and place in life.I'm the thankful soul who finds an unexpected Second Blessing when David and I marry.I'm the woman who reads a newspaper article about an "elderly" woman then feels surprised to realize I'm older than the so-called elderly woman.I am all of these people at one time.If I set out to describe myself, I would use words like thankful, blessed and grateful over and over, even though writers know you shouldn't use the same word in one sentence.I would end that writing with my often repeated belief: Life is a daily gift too miraculous to behold.Who am I?Just a woman who is grateful for it all.