I’m sitting in my parents-in-law’s (is that grammatically correct?) backyard in balmy Houston. It’s beautiful.
Lush pine trees reach to the sky as their green leaves and scraggly branches hug each other. A freshly-cleaned pool sits at my feet — and at my side, a freshly awaken 2-year-old in a great mood, eating a croissant. He is “coloring” his book with Granddad’s golf tees and pushing away the panting, overbearing laborador. “Noooo…” he tells her.
A breeze beckons. Birds sing their morning prayers. The husband still sleeps. And I sit refreshed on this Sunday morning.
“Life is good,” I say to my toddler. He looks at me with a blank stare. And we go on. I sip my coffee with extra cream and sugar. He sips his milk out of a rubber sippy cup. And together, we are happy.