Good Day, Sunshine

I sat on the back porch tonight, the chill of the nearing sunset rustling up some goosebumps on my bare arms, and I breathed in deeply the smell of freshly cut grass and the mint that has proliferated so that it, too, got bruised and became fragrant after the lawnmower blades had their way with them.

I watched the dog wander around the newly trimmed yard, listened to the birds in the trees chattering and arguing, and wondered how long that large maple had been there for. I hid my eyes behind sunglasses, and wished the daylight could last longer, because it makes me so happy to see the sun.

Good things have been happening lately; I feel like something has been lifted from my shoulders, a weight, a memory, a burden, an impending something-or-other. Is it... happiness? It couldn't be.

Or could it?