Unwinding and ending day, I smoke from bench and patio’s view. Short sleeves, gift of an almost-summer day in heart of winter. Not all miracles need be profound. What matters is we see—and today was one.
Wind chimes blow and gift a song as I rest in my own silence. Cigar is gone, but still I rest taking in peace of last of day.
Presents, food, seeing the excitement of my youngest son in taking to a bow, his birthing passion for the outdoors—hunting, exploring, and adventures; playing catch with my oldest and seeing him behind piano (or weighted keyboard) and recognized and appreciated for a talent that is uniquely his and that he isn’t recognized for often enough; to see my wife happy, my daughter too—all that lives in a special day as Christmas is meant to be.
Not all miracles need be prions. What matters is we see—and I do.
Listening to chimes in song, I pray in thanks to God for miracle of today.