Feeling good

I walked over to a restaurant with my two boys last evening. The smiling waitress was sure she knew me from somewhere. The boys were cheerful and story-telling. We filled the long wait for our pizza with soda pop and conversation, and I began feeling good; just solid, wholesome, and joyful.

I don’t always feel good. I work a lot. I expect a great deal from myself. Most days, I suppose, I’m just waiting for it all to end.

I sat in the sunlight this morning on my couch, remembering dinner with the boys. I began feeling good again.

It’s surprising to me, and I think, “what if this happened all the time?”

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