The Truth.

Today was a good day. I knew it would be. Some days you just know. Some days you know are going to suck. Some days could go either way. And some days are just good ones. This morning the sun was out and the breeze was cool, but warming. My dog wore a smile and my kids weren’t fighting. My spirit was high and my soul was aligned with its proper place. This was a day of much to do, but also much possibility. Work would handle itself, but the variable of how to best spend the free moments was a deep consideration.


Much of my joy these days involves a peripheral sliver of my kid’s fun. Their joy is mine, some of it, sometimes. I made omelets with my six-year old daughter. She likes omelets. Eggs, cheese and sausage are her favorites. I kick in a little tomato and avocado for myself. My crazy-haired son ate cereal on the couch in his underwear, shrouded in his favorite blanket while watching his favorite cartoon, some weird Asian space show that I don’t get. Nonetheless, the morning was virtually conflict-free, a true oddity in my home.

Next, we went to my wife’s office where I have a little landscaping project shaping up. I am removing and resetting the paver entry path. It is the perfect sized project for me. I tend to suffer from some type of adult ADHD when it comes to projects. I tire of them quickly and they become onerous and un-fun for me. This was a two-dayer, perfect. I had my son removing stones and my daughter cleaning them with the garden hose. In another unheard-of development, my daughter did not “accidentally” spray my son with the hose. Here, we avoided an epic screaming match and potentially some serious pick-axe threats on my daughter’s life by my son. It was smooth and everyone seemed to enjoy their contributions. This, too, is exceptionally rare. My kids were content and peaceful in their efforts.

Later, we had lunch, which included ice cream cones. Nobody, in their over-eagerness, licked too hard and had the scoop drop on the floor. This is, again, pretty uncommon. My kids like ice cream and will dive into a waffle cone without regard. They understand the consequences of this, but they don’t care. They don’t care if the ice cream falls on the floor. They will pick it up or, more likely, my wife or myself, will pick it up, shave the dirt off with a napkin and set it back on the cone, always within the “five-second rule” window, of course.

In the evening, I invited a couple of buddies and their families over to barbeque. I love barbeques. I love standing at the grill with a beer in my hand and smoke in my eyes hiding my tears of joy at how good my chicken and sausages smell. In the background, through the delicious meat sizzle, I hear my kids playing with my best friend’s kids. They are going to be life-long best friends, too. My wife makes a salad with friends, smiling the entire time. I hear a couple of other old buddies smack-talking during a cribbage game. This false conflict is a ritual that I have both witnessed and participated in for nearly thirty years and a cribbage game between old friends would be less without it. My buddy, Dan, takes alternating turns spraying the hose at the swing set slide creating a redneck waterslide for the kids and spraying, my dog, Diego, in the face. This is Diego’s favorite thing in the world. It is a bizarre fetish, but it is his. The kids cannot get back in line quick enough for another run down the slide.

As I look around and see all that I love standing in my yard or sitting at my picnic table, I am, very simply, happy. The sense of peace and joy and my contented arrival at the place that matters defies words or I am incapable of expressing them clearly enough to define all of the nuance and implication that this moment deserves. The depth of sentiment runs deeper than my mind can dig for explanation. This being the case, I will simply call it, the truth. It was a good day, indeed.