If I don’t think forward or back my days are perfect. If I do not have expectations I cannot be disappointed. Monday I fell off the work wagon and rode my bike to nowhere. Returned home in a sweat with a package of rice paper wraps and a couple sweet potatoes: a happy woman. Today, I don’t know exactly. It involved reading family history, a song that reminds me it’s alright to not be alright, a fumbling awkwardness, and coffee with fresh maple syrup. I’m further convinced that happiness and sadness are versions of the same.