In seasons of cheerfulness, no temper could be more cheerful than hers, or possess, in a greater degree, that sanguine expectation of happiness which is happiness itself.
- Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
Fleeting thoughts and words dash by my head, glittering as they go, too fast for me to catch, except maybe by the trail of dust they leave behind. Glimpses of things I hold dear slowly evaporate as my nodding head seeks a pillow amongst my jersey cotton quilt and crisp sheets. Glittering words shuffle around as I drift off to sleep.....
What are these thoughts I have had lately? So scattered and melancholy at times. Always thankful. Then cheerful and dreamy. Then around the bend it goes to thoughtful. Am I on a merry-go-round of emotion? Am I merry?
This is the season of glitter, but I am not fond of it. It sticks to everything. But when I have a glittering thought it is a good thing. Small, easy to see, shiny, and bright. But difficult grasp onto sometimes. The words stick on to you and you cannot get them off, and they shine for you later.
Sink in, glittering words.
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