The Pickled Egg: Life is Good (Even When It Isn’t)

She is seventy years old. She lives alone in a little house. Her husband of fifty years passed away last year. And she is, without question, the most cheerful person on the street.

Known to everyone only as The Pickled Egg, she wakes each morning at half past six, makes her tea in the cup with the tiny violets on it, tends her garden, plays bridge every other Thursday, and finds something genuinely wonderful in nearly everything, including the rabbit that ate her best lettuce, the neighbor across the street who hasn’t smiled since 2004, and a power outage that turns into the finest Friday evening she’s had in years.

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