I have lunch with a retired colleague every week. Over time, our luncheon conversations have narrowed. His once wide ranging stories have settled into three major themes, one of which is calculating exactly how old he is and expressing disbelief that the number could be true. Over and over we do the math, count the years, look at the evidence. Every week we repeat the conversation and he is just as incredulous as the week before. I showed up at his house a few weeks ago and decided that we needed a change of scenery and we went to a small restaurant nearby for our lunch. He was delighted. On our drive there he remarked, "How did I get so lucky? I was getting hungry and then you showed up for lunch. What made you think of me? Why did you come today? Everything is working out just right for me!"
Thinking of that day reminds me of how little we really need to be happy. What is it we want, at heart? To be cared about and cared for, to be hungry and have someone take us to lunch, to be lonely and have someone come to visit, to be tired and have someone rock us to sleep.
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