Drugs and Honey

Driving in my car with the radio on and daughter #1 in the back. Bad country music playing but both of us in sparkling moods. No one on earth could possibly derail this train. The sun is beaming and my little girl is speaking gibberish and acting silly as I spy on her in the rear-view mirror. Head flying side to side in her car seat. Blond hair bouncing. Eyes closed. Reminding me of a white Stevie Wonder with no glasses. A smile as wide as a cave showing off the gaps in her front teeth.

Me feeling radiant. Radioactive. Like a seated super-nova ready to blow through the roof. Like the greatest dad in the world and the center of the universe and that being absolutely good enough when most of what I accomplish isn’t good enough. Taking the 5 minute ride to her school and circling the block because I just don’t want to drop her off. Then circling around again because you’re both in the slipstream of the same mood and the ride is intoxicating and you really don’t care to break it or share it with a single soul. You have no idea how or why this moment came but you feel thankful and alive and what the hell….it feels like drugs or honey and how many moments in your life are really like drugs or honey and so what if she’s a few minutes late…