Pure, unadulterated joy

It can happen on a lazy afternoon, reading Updike in your chair, wishing you could compose works with such brevity.

It's found in a woman's smile, one that brings with it warm memories of a happy winter night.

And, of course, it lurks between the lyrics of a pretty country song, performed by the most beautiful voice you know you'll ever hear, musically speaking, as it flies into the upper regions of space on a picture-perfect East Tennessee Sunday night.

Turns out that snow must fall in August; guess you can get lost between the moon and New York City after all. How else do you explain finding yourself singing with a special, talented soul, a thousand unspoken daydreams suddenly come to life?

You know what's funny, though? The best part turned out to be the conversation between sets the night before.

I've learned to cherish such pure, unadulterated joy, and often find it waiting in the simplest of places -- often through people, watching their faces, hearing their words, losing myself a few minutes in the series of moments that make up their lives.

Somebody once said the richest thing one can own is friends. Much wisdom lies in that corny line.