The twins slept until 7:30 a.m. this morning. Before daycare, I had to take them to get their flu shots, and they were total troopers. I stopped to get a coffee after I dropped them off. There was a little bit of light snow falling, and the parking lot bustling, but not overwhelming. The Salvation Army bells were ringing. I could still practically taste the holiday toffee that a friend and I made last night in preparation for Thanksgiving. Everything felt just right.
As I walked across the parking lot to my car, I felt happy.
I've felt many positive emotions in the past months, in varying amounts: contentment, joy, and pride among them. But a simple sense of happy has been elusive. You can't miss what you don't have, or so "they" say, and it wasn't until I felt that bit of happy this morning that I realized how long it had been gone.
I got in the car and headed to work. A good song came on the radio, and there was no traffic. I thought about John, and I cried a little as I drove. I know John would want me to be happy. But there's a part of me that doesn't feel ready to be happy without him. Part of me believes that in the Venn diagram of "happy" and "no John," there is no overlap. Or is there?