in watching a little kid's giddy delight,
smelling a new morning's ineffable promise,
spooning with a special partner in private,
unspoken bliss,
having an omelette so good it deserves an award,
feeling your soul opening up like a crocus
on the first warm day of spring,
or embracing a friend you once thought
would never be in your sight again
but who is now vibrantly real in your arms,
is not an escape,
an aside,
an aberration in the scheme of an
indifferent universe,
or a denial of reality.
Each of those moments is a victory,
complete and total in itself,
over gray, exhausted despair,
an affirmation that the term real
isn't just reserved for tragedy,
and a reminder that life
is more than the sum
of its tears.
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