The Button

This morning I took an alternate morning constitutional route, mostly to avoid some of the middle-schoolers groggily making their way to school at 7:30am. I find it odd that the middle school in my neighborhood seems to begin classes about 7:45, but the elementary school, two blocks away, doesn't start until about 9. Weird.

Anyway, in this alternate route I happily noticed a big, beautiful lilac bush, growing right by the road. Its aroma called out to me, "Stop, Leslie! Smell the lilacs!" And so I stopped and smelled. Then I relished. Then I smelled again, as big a lungful of lilac as I could hold, and relished some more. As I began to think I might hyperventilate if I relished too much more, I noticed a shiny, pink circle stuck to the telephone pole in the middle of the bush.

It was a button. Its bright, glossy surface caught my eye and I stepped closer. It read "I am loved" in happy white letters. I was struck by the joy of such a simple phrase. Really, is there anything better than being loved? Nope. At least, not that I can think of.

So I decided that if I ever come across buttons like that for sale I am gonna buy as many as I can afford and give them out to all the people I love because sometimes you forget. That just shouldn't be, because it's hard to be happy if you're not loved, and hard to be sad if you are.