Sam felt good. Everything about his life at this moment, on this day, was incredibly good, great, wonderful, fantastic with a capital ‘tastic!’ For the past three hours, he’d been trying to figure out why trying to pinpoint the moment this feeling started. But there was no particular reason why he felt this way and for a pinpoint, it simply was, as if he felt this way before he woke up, maybe even before that moment when he slipped from awake to asleep the night before. Although he couldn’t remember any of his dreams, he knew they were all special, the kind you want to tell someone about before you forget what they were or anything about them beyond the fact that you had them and they should have been memorable.

Then there was this thought: if he discovered the reason or the moment this elation began, maybe that would end it. Maybe he and everything about him would return to one of those moments before this began. It was like a softball game when he was a kid and each of the six batters before him had gotten hits and he knew if he thought about it too much, about being the one who ended the string, then he wouldn’t get a hit. So, he walked up to the plate thinking about hitting the ball, thinking about watching it going over the shortstops head, about running to first and maybe even to second. That didn’t happen though, the ball sailed over the second baseman’s head.

So he decided to stop thinking about it. He would just enjoy this giddy, tingling sensation, this raw happiness and forget about the possibility of grounding out.

“Why the big smile on your face?” asked Donna.

“Maybe because I knew you were going to walk into the room.”

“I walk into this room every morning about this time… you’ve never smiled like that before.”

“Maybe I have but you never noticed.”

“It’s more than just your smile. You look sorta strange. It’s like you know something I don’t, the kind of look one or the other of my brothers seemed to show up with a few days before Christmas. I knew he found our presents, but he wasn’t telling. So, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing. For some reason, I’m just in a really good mood.”

“What did you do?”

“Wish I knew. Don’t want to know. Don’t want to ruin it and you’re not helping. Whatever it is, I just want to hold onto it.”

“That’s nice. So, do you want to do something while you’re in this great mood?”

“Not really, just want to sit here and feel it.”

“We could turn on the TV and…”

“No, definitely not.”

“Maybe just go out for some ice cream?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Then maybe we could just go out and buy a half-gallon and bring it back.”

“You could do that.”

“Okay then, let’s go.”

“I said you can do that. I’ll wait here for you.”

“Okay, then maybe I’ll download a movie.”

“Why?”

“I’d like to watch something while I eat my ice cream. That would make me feel really good. Since you don’t want to watch TV, I thought…”

“I don’t want to turn on the TV or the computer, not for a TV show or a movie.”

“Maybe we could read to each other while we eat our ice cream. We haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Maybe you could read to yourself while you eat your ice cream.”

“You’re still smiling, but you’re becoming a real party pooper.”

“I know. I’m trying so incredibly hard to hold onto this feeling. I’d like to see it last all day at least.

“Maybe if you’d share it.”

“That would be nice, but if I share it, I’ll have to explain how I got it and I don’t even want to try to do that…. It’s strange, but I can’t think of a single time in my life when I’ve ever felt this good before.”

“Not when we got married?”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“I think we were too busy to notice how good we felt.”

“Not even in bed.”

“Maybe, but each time’s different… and who’s counting if you know what I mean.”

“Well, we should do something.”

“We should, shouldn’t we. There’ve been six hits in a row… Ice cream sounds good, what flavor.”

 


 

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