The Days Of Good and Great

There he was staring at me with a big, huge grin coming from his reflection.

The lines that crossed his face at the crucial intersection where his eyes and lips found their edges were there with reason and a purpose driven from the inevitable passage of time.

Still, his smile was larger than life and he felt good.

He had just finished a bout (still considered it a battle) with exercise and his body was resenting the unnatural movements he made it do this early in the morning.

Still, he felt happy and content and satisfied with every crumb of life that was scattered about him.

It was a good wake up day.

He jumped in the shower and let the water welcome his somewhat sore body and he stood under the rain shower letting all the potential ills of the world wash away.

It was a great wash day.

Getting dressed and hurrying to meet his wife for breakfast, he was looking forward to the western egg-white spinach wrap with tomato he would consume and the steaming, hot, bold coffee that would also greet his tastebuds.

It was a good food day too.

Waking up with all of this great and good fortune was enough to plant the permanent smile on his face, but he wondered how long he would feel this way today.

After all, it was morning and the day was young. Surely someone or something would challenge the brightness of the hour and want to add a dimmer switch to the upcoming day.

But at this moment his demeanor was set to happy and he was going to keep it there for a a long as the day would allow.

It was a good day.

It is a good day.

And it’s mine.



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