Dear Wigleaf,

B. and I went out last night to celebrate, and she asked if I was happy. I said, "About 70%. My happiness is a C minus. It's almost a D."  "But still passing," she said. And that made me happy.

This morning, the dog woke me because he was hungry. I fed him and went back to bed. He woke me again because he needed to go out. I let him out, but he wouldn't pee in the rain. I told him to get inside, and after wiping his paws I went back to bed. He woke me again, but I told him to go away until he really meant it. He woke me about an hour later, and, sure enough, he meant it. I did not go back to bed. Instead, I watched the sun rise and waited for the dog to fall asleep, and when he did I woke him. This made me happy.

Tonight, after work, I will go home and feed the dog and let him out, and the sun will go down, and tomorrow B. and I will meet for breakfast and I will tell her that I am 72% happy—which is pretty good, because improvement is all I have to look forward to, really; and over eggs, B. will say, "Hey, do you remember Wigleaf?" and I'll say, "Wigleaf! I need to get in touch with Wigleaf," and then I will write and send you this postcard.

Much love,

M.







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Photo detail on main page courtesy of Sandro Menzel.

Read MG's story, "Come See the Monkey"

w i g · l e a F               11-19-08                                [home]