The other day I read a column of status updates on Facebook. 

 

 

I sighed with the effort of trying to spin an ending for a story and took a sip from my own mug of Peach Medley.

 

There was a string of exquisite baby faces, and toddlers playing with a cat. They evoked feelings of nostalgia for my own babes. Surely that was the best stage of life. My twins came through the door laughing about what happened on the trampoline and plopped next to me. I stopped reading and gazed into their windblown faces while they rambled about the game.

 

Then a friend posted about the shenanigans of her daughter.

 

It made me laugh. Even other people's troubles are more entertaining than mine. Just then Benjamin came galumphing through the room with a bandana tied across his mouth, quoting Toy Story. He used a bowl as a hat. I smiled until I remembered that that particular bowl had held chips on the table. Where were the chips now? I poked into the dining room and saw the chips scattered with little green army men strewn across them.

 

I grumbled as I scooped them up, sorting edible from plastic. 

 

Another status update was from a military wife.

 

 

Ah, they have a great marriage. How wonderful to welcome him back after eight months! I bet they are in bliss. 

 

Then I glanced at the clock. John would be walking in the door in a few minutes. I snapped the computer shut. Why did I eavesdrop on other people's lives instead of savoring my own? I started making a salad, the way John likes it, and when he walked in the door I hugged him as if it had been a very long time since I last saw him. 

 

It was an ordinary, blessed dinner. And I did not stop to post my status.