Real Work

Sometimes you need to practice in order to be ready for the happiness that is coming, especially when you know it will be from a sad gift. My children are growing up and leaving me--slowly, kindly, but steadily.  I feel like Wilbur crying at the fence, but not today. Today I sit at my desk in my new library, and even though I have real work to do I am just sitting and imagining the time when this work will be primary and the children will take care of themselves. I am practicing being happy about it. I'm staring out the window at the next chapter of my life. It tastes like an orange Sour Patch Kid.

And I am happy.