As Friday winds down and the work week gives way to the first giddy moments of the weekend, I find myself sitting in my car getting ready to head home.
As I turn the key and my trusty little vehicle - her name is Henrietta - comes to life, the cabin fills with a familiar and comforting tune. I glance down at the display and realize the irony of the song title. It was indeed a good day. Come to think of it, it was an entire week of good days.
Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.
Your turn: Was it a good day for you, too? What made it so?
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1 comment:
When you are an elder, every day is a good day because you come to the realization that these days are most certainly numbered.
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