I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so,
In whining poetry.
-John Donne

A friend and I were talking at work the other day. It was gray and bleary outside, and we were trying to uplift the mood of the afternoon. Our musings went something like this:

"I would be the first warm day in May---no, the first warm night in May---no, even better, the first warm twilight in May...""

My friend replied, "I would be a sunlit day in autumn when the leaves are in full color, and the trees are just holding onto them---and the local school burns down---an electrical fire in the middle of the night, of course no one is harmed---and everyone gets to stay home from school..."

"If I could be any memory, I would be the summer I lived in France when I was sixteen---riding my bike, wearing my favorite wool sweater, living off of chocolate and bread..."

We stood there marveling within the world of thoughts and words. Language can be such a subtle form of time travel. What a gift it is, being human.

For now, I am content to live life in a way that will yield many wonderful thoughts and adventures to access for future reverie. Pictured above is one such example. Our lovely family went to the home of another lovely family, to share food and conversation on a cold winter night. The hours passed by all too quickly; one by one the children either fell asleep on the couch, or broke out into fits of laughter or tears. Good times abound and await.