I am happy.
It’s a cold winter night, and I have my cup of tea on one hand, fuzzy socks and a fat new book in the other. In five minutes, I will snuggle under my heavy quilt and read in bed, tired and lazy, with a kitty curled up at my feet, keeping them toasty.
There are people in the world, at this very moment, cold, their toes and fingers turning blue, icy with hunger and unfulfilled wishes. The world has an underbelly: starvation, cruelty, deprivation, murder, mortality.
I don’t have wads of money, or a million parties to go to, or my personal tennis court.
But I have a good night’s sleep ahead of me, warm and content. How many people can say that?
I am grateful, because even though I have nothing, I have everything.