…aaaand Tom Hanks has his hand caught in a pickle jar.
“You have to let go. No, let go of the PICKLE.”
“But I want a pickle.”
There’s a metaphor for my life here.
"Let go of the pickle."
"But I want the pickle."
Me: You look happy, Ducky!
Ducky: I am! Thanks for making it cooler in here!
Me: You’re welcome. But I didn’t really do it. Summer just ended. Finally.
Ducky: Well, thanks for not stopping summer from ending!
Me: I always appreciate your steadfast faith in my omnipotence. At least when good things happen.
Ducky: You look happy too!
Me: Yeah. I had a good week.
Ducky: That’s rare.
Me: Probably not as rare as I let myself believe. But this week really was good. And I’m going to let myself be happy about it.
Me: But this is the best part of my week.
Ducky: Lying on the floor?
Me: With you. Yup.
Ducky: Maybe your weeks really aren’t that great.
Me: No, Duck. I’ve just reached the point that I know what really makes me happy. I know what matters. And I forget sometime, and sometimes I let things that aren’t important to me upset me. But I’ve gotten better at letting myself enjoy the moments that matter.
Me: Like lying on the floor with my best buddy.
Ducky: Does rubbing my head and belly matter?
Me: It makes you happy. So it matters a lot.
Ducky: I love you, Daddy.
Me: I love you, Ducky.
|—||Me. On most Sunday nights.|
|—||Ralph Waldo Emerson|
|—||Alain de Botton|
|—||Me. Currently worried about the money.|