Speechless

I’ve been staring at this screen for many minutes now, trying to think of something interesting I want to tell you. But tonight I have nothing interesting in me to say.

I will tell you, though, that I had a nice day. I started by cleaning the piles of paper off my desk, sorting and filing them, and paying the bills.

And then I met a friend in the park and we watched our dogs romp in the spring-like sunshine of this odd November day.

And then we went into town, got a quick lunch, did a grocery run, and parted ways.

And then I picked up my smiling girl at school. And listened to her talk about her day.

And then we went home, and pet the dog and the cats, and played with plastic models of animals and knights and kings and queens.

And then I cooked dinner.

And then we welcomed Michael home from work.

And then we ate. And talked. Sat at the same old wooden table we’ve had for our entire marriage, and noted that it wobbles and needs to be tightened.

And then we cleared the table together.

And then we watched a movie and snuggled together during the scary parts.

And now I’m here with you, thinking over this day, where nothing in particular happened, nothing of note, nothing that needed to be written down.