Sunday Roast

He carved the beef for the family. It was the Sunday roast.

“What am I doing? I imagined so much more for my life” he thought to himself.

He was software analyst for a corporate company with no real prospects, but made a pretty good living nevertheless.

“All I do is go to work, come home and repeat, maybe one or two nice holidays during the year. Ugh, but so boring.”

He wanted to do so much more. His friends had left school and become doctors, accountants, entrepreneurs.

He thought of how much hard work he had put into life. Exams, being a good citizen, a good father, a good husband.

Then it hit him. He looked up, looked all around him. His three children, two boys and a girl who he was so proud of, they were everything a father could want. Then his wife, oh his wife, she’s always been there whatever, and she’s so beautiful.

Everything seems so insignificant now.

Everything is perfect.

“Never mind” he thinks happily to himself. “Everything’s perfect”.

For today’s daily post.

Follow Mark Robertshaw on

Also published on Medium.

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