happiness

Someone remarked to me when I first began working at the prison, "I don't know what it is that makes the sunsets seems so much more beautiful here." Perhaps the skies over Concord are more serene and beautiful - after all they captivated Emerson and Thoreau. Perhaps a sky ablaze is more beautiful when viewed through razorwire. Or perhaps we're all forced to look up and out to see freedom.
Every day when I leave work, particularly late in the evening, I feel a tinge of joy. I feel a bit overjoyed to be re-entering the wide world. I feel a spark of excitement and am privately bemused as the final of eight heavy mechanical doors slams loudly shut... they let me go again!
I feel grateful.
I feel grateful to have a life of freedom with limitless opportunity. I feel terribly grateful to have avoided a life of crime and drugs... as I understand how very, very easy it is to slip. I understand how lucky I have been.

After the flash of joy I experienced at having been paroled for yet another day, I arrived at my truck to find a message on my phone from the transplant coordinator at Lahey Burlington. I whooped and pumped my fist at the news that I have *finally* been approved to donate my kidney after months of testing and patiently waiting.
I sighed with joy and relished the unique opportunity that I had just been awarded.

I smiled up at the full moon and stuck my arm out into the cool evening air as Adele's young soulful voice reverberated in my ears. I sent messages to everyone most important to me, declaring my happiness to both those who would rejoice with me, and to those who state "I don't understand" in response to my happiness.

On this day - July 14, 2011 - I make note of my joy.