These days, I still have my shiny head. But I also have someone who looks at me like I’m the most interesting man in the room. Someone who loves running with me on Sunday mornings and trying new recipes on Wednesday nights.
Someone who sees me. REALLY SEES ME. And smiles.
Last week, Winona and I were cleaning out my garage when we found that bottle of floor cleaner. She picked it up, read the note, and smiled. “Should we keep it?”
I took it from her hands and tossed it in the trash.
“Nah! Some things aren’t meant to shine. They’re meant to grow.”
“What are you thinking about?”
I pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.
“Just how sometimes the best things in life start with a bottle of floor cleaner.”
She laughed and that warm sound made everything feel right. “Well, your head is pretty shiny today.”
“Perfect for dancing,” I said, pulling her into an impromptu waltz in our kitchen. “You know what makes you different from who you were before?”
“What’s that?”
“You notice things now.
Like how I painted my nails green yesterday.”
I spun her gently. “Mint green. And you missed a spot on your pinky.”
She smiled and I realized that sometimes losing everything is just the universe’s way of making room for something better.
And something real.
