I just don’t like the word favorite. It is an exclusive term that means nothing to me. My favorite things are harder to pin down than an accurate weather forecast.
There are too many wonderful feelings, colors, people, and ideas to play favorites. Gosh, I enjoy the rummaging that takes place when I’m ask about my favorite. The flashes from one delightful image to another, makes me smile, but I never was good at decision-making and really don’t care to choose.
Favorite choosing is a waste of time and subject to time also. At any given moment your favorite can easily be “up for grabs”, don’t you think?
I dearly love my dog. He is one of many “dog loves” of my life. To say he is my all-time favorite diminishes the love I’ve had for others and the love I hope to have for others too.
I will be blessed with a new granddaughter in September. It’s hard for me to image any grandchild as precious as Katherine, yet I know there is room for more. Evelyn will be my favorite Evelyn. That is all I can proclaim. She may be Katherine’s favorite sister if her mom’s design of her being the “final” child holds true. Only exclusive things can really, truly, hold the title of favorite and, in my world and yours, so few life experiences are exclusive enough to qualify.
Next time someone asks for your favorite, hold up your hand and say, “There’s no such thing.”
Doesn’t this all sound picky?
I think labeling favorites is the more picky endeavor. Count me out, please.