This past week was a really long one. I’ve been feeling out of sorts pretty much all month, just kind of generally grumpy about a bunch of little things (I even feel like I’ve been “off” here, which just adds to my grumpiness), but an already stressful situation at work got a little worse this week and, for the first time in the almost 4 years I’ve been working there, I’m starting to seriously wonder about the future of my company. Add sporadic insomnia to the mix, and, well . . . this past week was a really long one.
But a few hours ago I picked up my best friends from the airport; they’d been in Michigan all week, with their 3.5-year-old son, Nick (who has been the love of my life since they day they brought him home). I met them at baggage claim, and when Nick saw me I got the “movie” treatment: he squealed “Aunt Jenny!” and ran across the airport, arms wide open, and nearly knocked me down when he jumped into my arms to give me a hug. I’d knelt on the floor to be at his level while he ran to me, but when he was in my arms I stood back up, and he stayed wrapped around me, with his head on my shoulder, for several minutes.
And, for a little while, all was right with the world.