Thankful.

Every cliche about a beautiful morning applied to today's.
The sunlight tangled itself through the trees, knotting in branches and throwing dappled patterns onto the grass as we walked up her driveway. Her children had carefully taped "Welcome, BYU!" signs on the door, and the crooked, neon-markered letters reached out from the confines of white printer paper to touch my heart. We entered to warm smiles and a beautiful breakfast, all laid out for us in dishes that reminded me of home. The house was an antique beauty, where framed child's art hung on the walls next to professional paintings. What made this so idyllic, though, was the tangible happiness, which seemed a natural quality of the air. It wove soft ribbons through the room as we sat on the floor, its wavelengths interacting with those created by the children on their violins and the college students taking turns on the piano. Two parents, three children, a writing class, a yard, a tire swing, a halfpipe, a breakfast, a talent show, a tour, and an irresistible feeling of contentment.
Love is spoken here.