Every day, I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight.
A woman, white-haired and a little bit shaky on her feet, looking at stuffies and other little children’s treasures in the store, smiling wide as she picks up each one for a closer look.
Perhaps she is thinking about her great-grandchildren, or the wonder of her own long-ago childhood. Maybe she is just finding delight in the ordinary moment.
Either way, her wonder brushes off on me.