Earlier this afternoon I took a break from writing (or, more accurately, reading the manuscript) to do some errands. Just the ordinary things from the ordinary places — Staples for paper and more ink; Penzy's for herbs and more vanilla; Party City for some truly random stuff; the super supermarket — making my usual rounds through the regular stomping grounds.
I was riding the slipstream of I-95 when it suddenly occurred to me that I felt...joyful.
Maybe it was the sunshine (so strange, so welcome).
Perhaps it was the music — my friend Mikey recently gifted us with the remastered Beatles' "Revolver;" listening to it felt like sitting with an old friend recently returned from a long journey far away.
It could be the fresh green of trees whose buds glow lemon and chartreuse, unleashing a sort of mouth-watering hope in my winter-logged soul.
I don't know what sparked this, but I do know this: I am grateful.