This entry is a favorite from the archives of this week's featured guest, Jessica of Kerflop.

Oh how I hated elementary school. I remember my mother driving me to school in the early morning chill. I’d be hunched down in my coat, watching the houses go by beneath furrowed, angry eyebrows. Sometimes neighbors would have their drapes or blinds open and the cozy yellow light of their kitchens or living rooms would spill out onto the frosty grass. I could see glimpses of blue-green news programs blinking over breakfast nooks and children too small to go to school sipping hot chocolate and eating cheerios.

I resented being out in the cold. I resented having to go to school and sit at a desk and face the ridicule and dismissal of my peers. I would day dream of the time I would no longer have to do things I didn’t want to do. I’d stay home all day in a safe, warm house watching television while eating Lucky Charms in my flannel nightgown.

Later, after I grabbed my High School diploma from the hands of the Principal and cartwheeled my way out the front door, never to return again - I found myself working at a department store in Ogden, Utah. Riding the bus to and from work I once again dipped my cold nose beneath the collar of my coat and glared at the warm looking houses wanting to be inside. Once at work, I begrudgingly rang up happy shoppers purchases wishing I could stroll around looking for new shoes rather than stand at the tedious register.

It seems for a long time, I wished my life away. I was often dissatisfied despite all the privileges and comforts I had that I know (now) many others in the world long for. “I’ll be happy when…� This morning after I dropped my boys off at pre-school I drove home noticing the golden glow from neighbor windows and remembering all of that resentment in previous years.

As I rounded the corner, my own house sat in the crisp, still gloomy morning air, bright lights winking happily at me. I pulled our car into the garage, and my husband opened the door, holding our daughter in all her early-morning gloriousness with her disheveled bed-head and rumpled, toasty pajamas. The light poured out of the house and bathed us all in its warmth and welcome. I thought, “I want to remember this always. I’m happy to be right here, right now. In my own comfortable life. Things may not be perfect, but I’m grateful. So grateful for every second of it.�