Joy In a 3 × 4 box

If you could fill joy in a 3 × 4 box, only to move it across the world. What would be in your’s?
Mine was the sky and the sound of the ocean and the wind that always had my back, more than any. Mine was the open road at five forty five in the morning, the fog that is blinding, cold that is not numbing, the sunrise that has me hugging but more than that, the sunset that held a special place in my soul. Mine was quiet before, anyone woke up.

If you could fill joy in a 3 × 4 box, only to move it across the world. What would be in your’s?
Mine was short walks with the baby of the house, her running around like she was chasing all the demons who haunted my soul, in the wee hours of every morning. Sniffing out the horror in my breathing, my angel in every universe. Can’t wait to hug you and walk the same walks with you.