Some days are less joyful.
Bad night’s sleep.
Fifth rainy day in a row.
Whatever.
Every day is not a green screen of Mary Poppins animation where flowers come to life.
Some days are one minute after the next.
And you get through them
One minute after the next.
And somehow, something like joy returns.
Maybe it’s curiosity
Or expectation
Or that simple wondering
what’s going to happen next
So you’re distracted away from the drudgery
the plodding forward
for a minute
then five
then thirty

You make friends with these less joyful days
They become familiar
You begin to trust their comings
and goings

As you do
A friend.