This is God Smiling at You

This morning, I'm crossing the street from the gym to my office and the exhaust is overwhelemd by the earthy pungent odor of fresh cut grass. For a second the city diminishes and I can feel a glimpse of peace. I am in the now, and I think I just flirted with enlightenment.

At about 10 a.m., I got an advance copy of my employee evaluation by my boss. Glowing is a good way to describe it.

Tonight, dinner with friends and tickets to Hitchhiker's Guide movie. I have a feeling I'm going to have a lump in my throat seeing Douglas Adams' hijinks on the big screen. Supposedly, there's a shot in the film where Adams' distinct profile can be seen on a planet under construction when Arthur gets a tour of Magrathea's planetyards. Although I never met the author, I'm eternally grateful for Adams and his books, bright spots in a very rough childhood. Tonight, this will be the next best thing to being able to shake his hand or hear him speak. I'll be sitting metaphorically at his feet tonight, watching as his and my imagination co-mingle. Something tells me I won't be disappointed, and the experience, while fleeting, will make me miss this author even more...forever wondering how Adams would have lampooned Bush Inc., and his Infinite War always in the shadows.

And just five minutes ago, our alpha-slot movie critic offers me his press pass to see the press preview of a certain movie about lightsabers and Jedi and Sith at Seattle's crown jewel movie palace, the Cinerama. I phone and giddily tell my wife, who nudges me to accept the offer, content with going opening night and watching me scramble like a 5-year-old all over again to the Church of Lucas. I can see her in my mind, smiling and waving, telling me to have a good time, and I smile back with a grin shaped by Christmas, my birthday, Valentine's Day, and Halloween rolled into one blissful mass.

Sometimes, the universe opens up for you. I have good health, a tolerable job with wondrous benefits, a loving wife, and a potential future as a storyteller. And a year ago, I would have mentally rushed to deny I was worthy of good things like this. Now, I can be in the moment. I can enjoy without the latent bonds of a Catholic upbringing. I can laugh without looking over my shoulder. God nudged the roulette table, and the ball has come up on my number...

...which, strangely enough, is 42.