Last night, I enjoyed a lovely get-together with my writing partner. We spent two delightful hours, sitting in her living room and sharing stories and laughs. As I drove home, I turned up the volume and sang to the music spilling from the speakers. I opened the sun roof and breathed the thick summertime air. And then, I realized something. A couple of miles back, I had passed the turn to my old house. And I didn't even think about it.
We've lived in the new house for two months and even though I love it, I've dealt with moments of homesickness. I guess, sometimes, it takes a while to build new memories and reach a level of comfort that makes a place feel like home. But last night, I crossed a threshold — a subtle moment when a lingering sense of sadness subsided. It exited quietly, unnoticed. And now, I'm glad I didn't try too hard to fight that sadness. I just let it be, and it worked itself out. I'm grateful for the ability to live and love and feel my life — the good and the not-so-good — for all it's worth.
Minutes away from home, I approached a terrible wreck. As far as I could tell, the victims were alive, but two cars were in the ditch. Another car, farther up the road, was mangled and facing oncoming traffic. I knew they collided just moments before, because the ambulance hadn't arrived and police were pulling up to the scene.
Whether you chalk it up to chance or the work of a greater hand, I'm glad my friend and I lingered on the porch for a few extra minutes. That we didn't rush our goodbyes. And not solely because I avoided a wreck, but because it led to a surprise moment of happiness.
Can you recall a time when happiness caught you off guard? When a lingering sadness made a quiet exit?