The best part of the day
The best part of my day is not when I wake up and rush out the door 'cause I'm always late. And not when I score with the cute blonde cheerleader, what's her name? – Steph? Jenny? – and she smiles coyly and coos into my ear that I can call anytime. Definitely not when Mrs. Hayfer looks at me and announces a pop quiz when I don't even know what's she's talking about.
It can't be when I run as soon as I hear the bell and arrive home for some quality time with my babe – the guitar – and I find out Mom has cooked my favorite food just to find out later on that she did it to talk me to do the dishes.
The best part of the day is when I finally get the chance to dive into your ever open arms. I bury my face into your neck and all I do is whine about how miserable my life can get and all you say is to never give up and learn with your sorrows because Oprah told you so. Then you lean down and kiss me and finally the whole world makes sense because sweet Jesus! Josh Nichols you're not the best part of my day, you're the only part that matters.