booandbunny

It’s been one of those Missouri weather patterns where the front moves in and you can actually see the line. If you live in the Midwest or have spent time here you know what I mean. I have seen storms other places, but they’re different. Here, we can get lines as clear as the ones on the TV map.

This morning, driving East on I-70 we were right under one.

“I love mornings like this,” I said to my husband. “You can see the decisions right in front of you.” The sun was breaking through the clouds to our south while the clouds to our north were a solid, gray, discouraging mass. “You can choose the right thing,” I said pointing south, “Or not. Just like there are always two fronts coming together somewhere, there’s somebody making a big choice … somewhere.”

“Ya, but sometimes you can choose that,” he said pointing south, “but you get this.” He pointed north and I was surprised. I told him what an uncharacteristically negative remark that seemed to be for him. I married a glass-is-half-fuller.

“I don’t mean it negative,” he said … such a half-fuller. “I mean that, sometimes you can choose the right thing, but it doesn’t feel right for awhile. You have to do a lot of work before you get to that. It’s not all sunshine.”

He’s also well-grounded, well-rounded and realistic, too.

I knew he was right, and I told him so. For the rest of the ride we alternated between putting on our sunglasses and taking them off, depending on how we were carried back and forth under the sky. But in that car this morning, for me anyway, it was all sunshine.