the best day

This past Father's Day I actually got breakfast in bed. When is the last time you've had breakfast in bed? It was the best ever.

I woke up to Cavender standing by the bed saying, "Happy Fadder's Day, DaDa." -That alone would've sufficed, but immediately walked in Rebecca with breakfast on a tray. Complete with o.j., extra napkins -you don't want crumbs in the sheets- and a huge cinnamon thing that I ate off of all day long.

So we got up and hung out in the den for a while. Then went to the playground and played in the beautiful morning with Cavender. All day long everything went well.

That evening I actually got to grill some massive steaks that Bec got on "Manager's Special." The sun was out, the sky was blue, the charcoal was hot, I was sitting in my fold up camping chair complete with arm rests and cup holders, with a beautifully brewed cup of ice cold sweet tea. All was good in the world.

Even though I was actually sitting on the concrete sidewalk beside an asphalt pad and the cinder block side of the student apartment building in which we reside, you couldn't have convinced me I wasn't in the north GA mountains beside a trickling trout stream that I was about to own. It was kind of like the scene in the Shawshank Redemption when they were spreading tar on the roof on a hot day, but after a sequence of events the guards provided them with a beer and allowed them to take a break to enjoy their refreshment. Similar scenario with only a few differences.

Life was good. No, no. Life is good. I love my Father's Day; it was the best.