Midnight of last night saw me quietly crying into the darkness.
Just a few sneaky tears that silently rolled down my face whilst I laid in bed trying to get to sleep.
Nothing too dramatic.
And I was only crying because I'd just finished the book that I was reading.
It's called 'One Day'.
You've probably heard of it.
I always hate getting to the end of a book.
Most of the time I just want the stories to carry on forever.
So when I get to the end I always take a bit of a dive into melancholy.
And it didn't help that this book didn't have the happy ending that I'd really been hoping for.
Not really anyway.
So, as I laid quietly crying and listening to the stuffy breathing of Ross as he laid next to me, deeply asleep, I reached out for his hand, woke him up a little bit and made him make me a promise.
A promise that realistically he can never keep and one that he probably has no recollection of even making this morning, because he was pretty out of it, but nonetheless a promise was made.
And then I let him roll over and go back to sleep, whilst still lightly clutching his hand.
Then melancholy took a swift upturn to deep gratitude.
Gratitude for being alive, for having Ross, for us both being healthy, for our life circumstances and our future prospects and for just generally being happy with how things are going.
I'd had the book One Day recommended to me by quite a few different people.
Three at least.
So I had high expectations for it.
To be honest, when I first started reading it I was a little bit let down.
As soon as the characters are introduced I straight away thought that I knew how the book would play out.
I thought that I had the ending pinned down pretty accurately, so I very nearly stopped reading.
And I'm glad I didn't, because it was the ending, which didn't turn out to be a cliched Disney happy ever after, that really got to me.
And any book that I get to the end of that makes me feel true and deep gratitude for life and more specifically a life with love, for me is worth it.