more appreciation

My wife was on spring break
and planned a trip to Texas to visit her mom.
So we all got up early (very early) the morning she left
to take her to the airport.

The girls were awakened—
shaking their heads into their pillows
in weary but emphatic rejection
of this rude interruption to their slumber—
then stumbling around bleary eyed—
getting dressed.

We have a family tradition of going out to eat breakfast
the day anyone leaves on an overnight,
and the only thing open at that hour was a Dunkin Donuts,
so we got donuts, muffins and coffee to go.

As we merged onto the beltway to the airport,
the girls snuggled into their pillows
under their blankets in the back seat,
and our oldest murmured sleepily,
“My pillow is so kind to me.”

What would it be like to live with more appreciation?

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