I awoke this morning with a mantle of melancholy draped across my shoulders, a not uncommon occurrence with me, but one which I find increasingly tiresome. As the first to rise on this rare Saturday free from the manacles of outside commitments, I walked to the kitchen to start the coffee. Opening the cabinet, I retrieved the can holding the blend of heaven, and smiled, for it was brand new.
Why? You see, there are few pleasures in life quite like the smell you smell when you first open a vacuum-sealed pouch of coffee.
Such are the little pleasures of life. And there are others:
The gentle slap of water against the side of a canoe.
The lights on a Christmas tree in an otherwise darkened room.
The look of pure joy on a child’s face in the presence of a new discovery.
The sound of wind in the leaves on a quiet summer’s eve.
These moments bring little pockets of peace to an otherwise fretful, noisy life, which makes them precious indeed. Like manna from heaven.
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