A Glass Half Full
David stared at the glass.
He had, in a single draft, half drained it. The remainder of the amber liquid reflected the warm, golden glow of the open fire place. The soft babble of conversation washed over him.
How many times had he found himself in this situation, he wondered; his graduation, his wedding, the birth of his children and countless birthday celebrations. All those occasions, when his glass had been half full.
But they seemed a lifetime ago.
More recently things had been different, very different. Redundancy, divorce, the tragic death of his beautiful daughter and countless funerals. They had all left his glass half empty.
And so, here he was, staring at the glass again. Previously, he would have pondered the profoundness of it. He would have measured his life on the basis of whether his glass was half full or half empty.
Suddenly he smiled, for he had realised what a fool he had been.
All this time he had been missing the point.
He picked up the glass and drained it.
The point about a half empty glass is that it can be refilled.
He called the barman and asked that his glass be filled.
