Clouds, Coffee, and Contentment
On our last morning at sea, I watched a sunrise break through gray skies while an older couple walked by hand in hand. That simple scene broke through me. Back in our cabin, Becky and I shared coffee as the world began moving again. We ate a fancy brunch that felt both absurd and perfect—soups poured with flair, fruit towers, steak plated like crown jewels. Yet all I thought about were the pancakes we fed our kids twenty years ago. I’ve learned contentment grows in welcoming what’s present—not chasing some bigger, grander image of happiness.
