The weather hit 40 this weekend, and I came to the realization that I am really, really tired of winter. I think that I feel this way at this time every year, but with the extreme cold of this winter keeping activity at bay more than normal, I think I feel more so. I’m antsy and lethargic. It’s like pacing.

I was trying to figure out a place to just go and sit that conveyed the relaxation of ocean or the solitude of the woods. It may be time to hop a plane and take a vacation. Unfortunately, my imagination provided me with no solutions outside of my house. There are probably places, but my imagination was as frozen as the New England air.

Then, I drove by a three year old walking down the street. He was walking ahead of the rest of his family by ten feet or so, and completely unaware of anything beyond his feet.

pick up foot…slam it down…bam…pick up foot…slam it down…bam…shake my body…wave my arms…pick my foot up…slam it down…bam.

He was not only completely happy with walking along, but was actually enjoying every step. And I wondered to myself, at what point did I cease finding pleasure in every single step?

Posted in Happy, Philosophical BS