At about 7:30 this morning, as I was wrapping myself in a white, waffled robe, Chance shouted for me to come outside. I slid on my Birkenstocks, slid open the glass door, and stepped down onto the lower deck of our bungalow.
"Look there!" my husband whispered, pointing to the water down to my left. I peered over the dock and saw, to my utter amazement, a puffer fish. Approximately the size of a football, he was swimming lazily about 2-3 inches under the crystal clear surface of the water. I watched. He chilled. We stayed together, nature and observer, for well over twenty minutes. He seemed perfectly content to ride the calm waters, keeping watch on the colorful tangs and angelfish swimming off our deck, like a headmaster looking over his pupils. I named him Albus.
He let the current cradle him, every so often turning this way or that, as though he didn't have a care in the world. And, in that moment, neither did I. We were in full relaxation mode, Albus and I, letting the day take us where it wanted, no schedules, deadlines, or meetings to stress us out and cause us to blow up. There was no "finding a happy place." We already had.
UPDATE: He's back again this morning. We're having coffee together. ❤