A Satisfactory Day

My friend Jere's highest compliment was simple and direct: if something was delicious, or beautiful, or comfortable, or enjoyable, or . . . anything good, he'd announce, slowly after thought, "It's satisfactory."

This day was satisfactory, thanks to breakfast in Bell Buckle, my visit with Florence and her daughter A and step-son D, freshly groomed Prince, and the flowers in the window through which Jere enjoyed his garden during his last months.

A loss, surely, but love for satisfactory friends, too.