A reasonably edited excerpt from a handwritten journal I keep sometimes:
It is a week later & I am not going to feel sorry this time. I'm not sorry I was sick and did not journal or write because sorry doesn't change a thing. I'm not not sorry I was suspended for performance issues [or that] I am resigning from P&R Tuesday because my loyalty cost
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I recall a waitress in south central Minnesota when we had stopped for the evening while on vacation. Lovely, very personable teenage lady who took the time and made the effort to be kind to a young boy. That boy appreciated the attention, and that memory became engraved in the father of the boy...father is middle-aged now, the boy is a man.
Moments with such lovely creatures, who may be angels, are forged not so much by the outer beauty but by the inner beauty of the waitress or shoe clerk.
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It got me thinking :-)
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