The recent news of young friends being engaged made me happy, not excited as in jumping up and down, but I got that warm feeling inside my heart. I took a deep breath and smiled at their happiness.
I don’t remember the last time any news stirred me in an amazing, sensational wonderful way.
As a child, I got excited and was eager to know when somebody mentioned that there was news. I think that I expected mostly to be good news.
When I hear, “I have news for you,” now, my mind starts to pace. I try to think what could happen to whom, especially me, and need a moment to prepare for the news. The result of the excess baggage one adult carries, I suppose.
I used to tell my husband first, whether it was good news or bad news. I couldn’t wait to hear what he would say, be congratulatory words, sympathy or encouragement. He might not have said the right things, but I trusted him and his honesty.
At this time of my life, no news is good news. Even if I get some fantastic news, all I have are two dogs and the jungle to hear me roar or see me happy dance.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”
“You get some incredibly, amazingly, wonderfully fantastic news. What’s the first thing you do?”