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Absorb the good.
Take possession of the good because the bad in life was guaranteed. People get hurt. Hearts break. Jobs are lost. Mistakes are made.
We can plan, make good decisions, move carefully and cautiously through life and the bad will still find us. As much as we cry and scream and rage, we cannot avoid it altogether.
That, we must endure.
That, we must tolerate.
That, we must fight to overcome. Fight like Spartans because in our deepest of hearts, that is who we are.
But we musttakethe good.
Seek it.
Seize it.
Celebrate it.
With passion, purpose, intent, and heart.
My empty stomach interrupted my train of thought and lured me downstairs.
I padded softly into the hallway and came to an abrupt halt at the sight of my mom sitting on my dad’s lap in his big chair, her head resting on top of his.
I’d forgotten how often I used to find them like this.
He ran his hand over her back. “I’m going to gas up your car. It’s getting low.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Make the grocery order and I’ll pick it up on my way home from work. Get her some treats.”
“I will.”
“Baby, don’t fight with her. I know you care. So much. But you’re hurting her. And I know you don’t want to do that.”
She sighed heavily. “She’s so sad, Chris. I just want her to be happy. I don’t care how.”
“I want her to be happy, too. But not at the expense of her self-esteem. She’ll have to find it for herself.”
There was a long pause, and I was just about to make my presence known when my dad began to laugh.
“And I can’t keep running interference by yelling for beer. She’s going to think I’m an alcoholic.”
She laughed and hugged him.
Under the cover of their chuckles, I walked into the room. “Hi, mom. Dad.” With their quilt still over my shoulders, I curled up on the couch.
Both got up.
“You don’t have to get up,” I protested.
“I’m going to gas up your mother’s car,” my dad said gruffly. “Give me your keys and I’ll top yours up as well.”
“That’s okay, Dad.”
“Where are your keys, peaches?”
