I ran precisely one mile today. Certainly, I did so bregrudgingly. It was cold, and I was a bit cranky in my want to exercise. Nevertheless, one mile is one mile. As I was running outside for a very brief period of time today, my immediate thought that lasted the entirety of my run was the phrase "Sharing Sunday" or "Sharing Saturday." Sharing a meal is of the greatest importance. I always felt like my dad was truly the best at sharing a meal, as was his mother and my mother-in-law always shares a similar sentiment. There is nothing more beautiful than sharing a meal. The preparation forces you to think about others, the warmth (or smoke) that arises from cooking creates a cozy ambiance and the conversation is always that much brighter over food. Food is a true love language-when spoken correctly of course. Tonight we decide to return the favor to my brother and his wife as we had gone over there for dinner during the holiday break, and we wanted to return the favor. There was piano playing and conversation building and reflection and just good ole' chatter which we all need to revive and rejuvinate every once and a while. I suppose the next step is realizing that it should be our goal as good neighbors or relatives or friends to share a day of the week/ a meal with someone else. The meal does not need to be extravagant. In fact, I suppose takeout would work fine too as long as conversation is happening and reflection is improving. Share a day with someone else, and I guarantee they will share this same sentiment of deep reflection.