I don’t know how she does it, but my daughter must have ESP. I was laying in bed, reading a book (a novel of the aftermath of a nuclear war, now there’s an uplifting topic) and I get a text message from her. “Go check email.”
I hem and haw, say I am in bed and don’t want to get up to look at it. She insists. “It’s worth it,” she says. So I drag my sorry ass out of bed, and this is what my beautiful, amazing daughter has sent me:
She does the darnedest things, that girl. How can I be such a sad sack when I have her in my life? Time to start counting my blessings rather than whining about unimportant things.
The collage is now on my desktop to remind me of what’s important.