Dinner done, football off.  Winding down early.

Collecting and thinking, or trying.  Mind everywhere and distracted.  Waking at 05:00 or earlier.

Missing the Nurse, trying to retain Composition.

16:36 and already getting dark.  Playing soccer with Jack and Emma earlier, wanting to play more then they said they were tired.  Should I enter some fucking old-timer league?  Why not.

Salad for dinner.  On or rather in a project to get in a shape I’ve known never.  Weights and cardio.  Not sure how tenable that is, but let’s try.

Relaxed, grateful.  The Nurse and her answer when I asked her what the main factors in happiness is…

GRAT-I-TUDE.

What I feel.

This condo.  Windsor.  My babies fed and upstairs and doing touch-and-go’s on this loft floor checking on Daddy.

How is this my life?  Keep this feeling, Mike.  Never mind the narcs, negative dopes and hobbling logical hobgoblins.  Jokes, all of them.  Look where you are…

And where am I?  Should I say?

Will that be used against me and misquoted by some syrup skirt in the future not-to-removed?

Henry coming down, asking me what I’m working on.

“Nothing much buddy, just getting ready for the week.”

“Do you know how to write for business, Dada?”

I smile at him, give him a hug.  “Love you buddy.  I think so, maybe… What are you doing?”

“I’m talking to Monkey, and Emma is playing.”

He flies back up the stairs, and I watch him.  He grows with each sprint.  How is that fair?