In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Celebrate Good Times.”
The mail arrives just after midnight, a happy chime of events on my IPAD. I roll over in bed and decide to wait until morning to read the mail. I wake, my eyes bleary, still somewhere between fully awake and the land of nod. I read the words, then read them again. A smile beams, elation and I’m fully awake reading the words for a third time. Could it be? The timing perfect, my last full day at a career that has defined the days of my life for so long. All niggling doubts fly away in this moment. Crystal is my clarity.
Who should I call? I call my husband first, then our children. Their happiness bubbles through the phone lines. I tell others’ throughout the day, their words not always matching their eyes their words not matching their emotion. It’s no matter, I do not require their joy, I have enough. I think of calling my Mom and Dad, how excited they will be I think in the next moment. Then I remember they died 12 years and 27 years ago respectively. Momentarily I’m sad. I tell them anyway and my spirit lifts once again.
Every life is punctuated by moments of great joy. The day we receive the letter, email, text, the word. The moment we receive the news, a job, a degree, a house, a proposal. The moment when the stars align and all the work, bad dates, and scrimping retreats into the abyss and there is only this moment of great joy, where all roads no matter how convoluted led to this one. Our joy exponential, in the sharing, though for several delicious moments we savour the news and bathe in its glow