So I went to the chiropractor today to get a massage and to get cracked. Susan the awesome masseuse worked on my neck and back and I've got a stubborn knot that won't relax so to get me to concentrate on something other than willing myself to relax, she asked me, "What makes you happy?"
And this is the image that popped into my mind:
Me on the front porch of a beach house watching my seven-year-old son playing at the edge of the water. I was laughing and I looked good for 45. Then I thought I better throw a father into the vision. So, poof, there he was sitting next to me in an Adirondack chair, holding my hand. He was tall, dark and handsome, although I didn't see his face. Just an impression of his profile.
Whoa.
There were no Manolos; I wasn't half in the bag; I wasn't smoking and the dude was definitely an American.
W. T. F?
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