Most days, I wake up and question whether I’m still dreaming when I walk out my door. Maybe that’s what I love, that everyday feels surreal, hazy, softened, like at any moment I’ll be tugged out of a long sleep and realize that I’d imagined the whole thing…that this strange and beautiful little world doesn’t even exist. Then I blink, realize that it does, and feel deeply grateful for the hand I’ve been dealt.
Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?
Sydney,
there is a great joy in knowing the peace of being grateful it pleases me to know that you feel that.
love Dad