Standard Bliss

There is a strange difference between what you imagine acceptable behavior from your children before they're born, and when they're alive, well, and running around naked.

Maybe ALS casts a filter. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe sitting in the shade drinking a cold or beer lowers my standards.

I'm fairly certain that it was the sound of you two laughing, splashing around, throwing rocks, collecting rocks, Louise pronouncing Cora's name as, "Ora," and Ora working on a collection of rocks...

... That had my emotions gently rocking from bliss to thinking, "fuck ALS," and back again.

Thankfully I spent most of my time in a state of bliss.

Thank you