On a cool, crisp morning just before breakfast, I pull on a jacket and walk outside to my favorite spot in our yard, a small garden shaded by a dogwood and a live oak. After a few warm-up exercises, I begin swinging my arms and hips in a rhythm I call the Happy Dance.
Swing, pivot, swing, pivot. The exact movements aren't important. All that matters is that they are driven by something deep inside me, a gratitude that can't be quashed.