Occasionally, my emotions are so overwhelming it seems like I could stop time and actually touch my feelings; like they are tangible things I could hold in my hands and rotate, look at, and dissect.
This weekend we (me, my husband, and my daughter) loaded up in our old Chevy truck and drove out to my mother's house in rural Nebraska for dinner. It was early evening, the sun was bright, the breeze was cool, the windows were down, and the radio was up. The three of us didn't have to talk to fill the gaps between us on the bench seat. We were comfortable just singing along with the Top 40 country songs coming through the speakers.
As we drove along, I felt...well, I just felt. I felt strong, loved, and perfectly perfect. It was one of those rare moments-in-time when all is right in the world. There really wasn't anything extra special about the day, the drive, or the song. We've driven that stretch of highway countless times together. But that moment was special - the quiet smile from my husband as I sang too loud and the giggle from my daughter as she spotted a few deer in a field - it's mine and I'll keep it stashed away in my brain for a good long while.
This is me. I'm in the middle of nowhere but I have everything.