I'm feeling exceptionally stupid with happiness today. It's a nice change of pace, and something I wasn't expecting to feel any time soon. So, this is just a tender little missive to say, "Hello world. Thanks for looking out for me all this time. I know sometimes we grow distant, but in the end, you really do seem to teach me all that I need and provide me with ample opportunity for joy."
This makes me want to post this lovely poem:
My Dead Friends
I have begun,
when I'm weary and can't decide an answer to a bewildering question
to ask my dead friends for their opinion
and the answer is often immediate and clear.
Should I take the job? Move to the city? Should I try to conceive a child
in my middle age?
They stand in unison shaking their heads and smiling—whatever leads
to joy, they always answer,
to more life and less worry. I look into the vase where Billy's ashes were—
it's green in there, a green vase,
and I ask Billy if I should return the difficult phone call, and he says, yes.
Billy's already gone through the frightening door,
whatever he says I'll do.