It was nice day, a nice night. Calm and silent. Pleasant as I took each task at hand with little emotion. They were just papers, filing, creating, bringing to order. It was as if I was gifted with a lull between the storms of activity, passion and insecurity.
A state of peace.
Like when I was a kid and would climb in the bed of Daddy's green pickup. Maybe we had gone to feed the cows or taken something to Mamaw. It could have been we had just gone to town for Mama. For sure it was in a time when laying in the bed of Daddy's truck after dark as he sat in the cab driving us home was not illegal, or at least it didn't seem that way. Plus, he always drove nice and slow.
And I don't know how it is where you live or lived but down amongst the red clay banks of Mississippi we have some of the most gorgeous, black, full of stars nights anyone could ever witness. As a child I lay in awe of it as the warm summer air moved around me. I guess you could call that a happy place 'cause I can't imagine anyone being anything but happy there.
Today is a holiday of peace.