Every life seems like a half-read novel. The idea or should I call it a realization, just popped in my head while I woke up this Saturday morning with a cup filled with hot tea having my wife next to me sipping it and enjoying the flavor together.
The concept of a complete and fulfilled life seemed unattainable, as we speak quality time within the quilt getting cozy in each other’s company. I could feel the love and simultaneously was asked if we were happy. The moment sort of just stood till and the concept of a fulfilled life popped. Are we satisfied? Is anyone satisfied? Does it take a lot to feel content? How love play a role in feeling content? Could content be something unattainable. Feels like a task to answer to many questions, but feels good to have the ability to pen these thoughts and place them in a space open to all to read, ignore or maybe share with someone we could just talk and not feels judged or questioned.