"I wish you could always be this content," Rosa told me today as we were partaking of a few Sonic burgers at Sonic.
I wish I could be this content as well. Life certainly has been most pleasant lately.
"Your reading again and I have never seen you read on a regular basis," she said as I was finishing my tator tots.
It was a quiet drive home. Rosa kept remarking on how mentally able I seem to be these days. I have come to the conclusion that maybe my father and my psychiatrist were not idiots after all. That they had my best interests in mind making me take all those pills every night.
Joyce came over not long after we returned home. She was lonely and wanted me to read the latest draft of chapter one of her memoirs. I sat them on my piano and told her I would get to them tonight.
"I don't want to go home," Joyce told me of her empty house.
"Stay with us!" Rosa said and they have been conversing ever since -- Rosa and Joyce being two peas in a pod.
I told Joyce that she was welcome anytime. It nice hearing two women talk as I am sitting here writing this. It feels like home.