Perfect

Sometimes life is just perfect. Do you know what I mean?

Girl returned home from Bend late Saturday afternoon. It was a sweet, sweet moment to hold her close. My eyes beheld and even lovelier young woman than I remembered and I wasn't alone. Beloved said, "She's prettier than when she left. Not nearly so ghastly."

He was kidding, he's funny that way. Yet, he saw it too. Was it because we missed her that she'd grown more attractive in the space of five days? Did we miss her sleepy head, get outta bed, at noon on Saturdays? Her silly laugh, her complaining about the cold, her asking, "What's good to eat?

We do not know. We simply know that distance does make the heart grow fonder.

It was perfectly lovely to have Girl home.

Perfect.

Sunday rolled around and as I drove the silent country road on my way to pick up Boy, I passed a man in black.

A man in black who needed a haircut and was carrying an iced coffee. He was walking from town and it's a pretty fair lick from town to the round house where my Boy lives.

Wait...

Is that Boy?

Sure enough.

So I picked up the man in black. If he'd had his guitar slung low on his back it would have been a perfect picture.

Last night the four of us laughed and joked about this and that. Laughter filled the room and I realized just how perfect life could be sometimes.