I have the most interesting, and sometimes perplexing, conversations with my sons.  The three boys (okay, two are men now, but still) are all so different and wired differently, and respond to life differently.

My oldest, Jake, despite all, is my optimist.  He embraces life with gusto and seeks to squeeze out every bit of adventure and happiness and I support him living life his way.  He’s going to take a half glass and be glad there is something in it.

My middle, Ty, is the most well read, and is extremely articulate and analytical.  He, though, isn’t the optimist of the bunch.  He’s very loving with me, but he is definitely my glass is happy empty guy.  In fact, his glass might even be dry.

The youngest, Mac, is driven by logic, and has that engineering type approach to life.  Set steps.  Measured.  Exacting.  And what glass?  Why discuss a glass?  What does a glass have to do with anything?

Now I, as you can probably guess, am all about possibility and so my glass is never empty, and it will always have something, even if it’s just enough.  For me, there is always going to be hope, and fierce love, and even fiercer optimism.  As long as I have my family and friends, I will be okay.  I just need my people, and stories, and something beautiful to look at, whether it’s the sunset, a vase of flowers from the garden, or a beloved blanket made for me.

I wish I didn’t feel as much as I do, though.  Because if I didn’t feel so much, I wouldn’t be so emotional.  But then, I wouldn’t be so dang grateful for all the love I know.  I wouldn’t be grateful for my readers and friends, those people who are in my life not because they have to be, but because they choose to be.  And isn’t that a marvelous thing?  To belong.   To be part of something bigger than myself.  To have a world that keeps me safe and sane.

I love you all.  That’s not said lightly.  I have my faith, and then I have you.  My glue, my compass, my sunshine and star shine.  Thank you.  I believe in you.  I believe in us.

xox