Happiness is small and comes silently, not with a bang, an introduction, or a parade. It does not come from things or people but around them. It does not come with a bow or candles or a lot of zeros behind it. It is not a contract, an agent, a book. Happiness is not earned. Happiness is not deserved, either.
“You deserve to be happy,” people say, but what they are really saying is “Happiness should be deserved. And dammit, I deserve some, too.”
And it doesn’t stay, settling on you like a blanket. It’s variable, happiness. Things can be perfect—the love, the children, the job, the car, the view, and wait, no happiness. Happiness is within but within fights the very notion at times.
“More,” the insides cry. “There is not enough. I need more right now in order to be happy.”
More comes, and it’s not enough. We walk up Maslow’s stairs, and still, no happiness.
But I think we forget what happiness looks like or feels like. It’s watching a fountain in a slow rain. It’s a warm loved body pressing up behind you, holding you tight. It’s a small animal running toward you. It’s a great, amazing meal presented on the dinner table, the aroma wafting up. It’s a nice surprise in the mail. It’s sitting in a group of friends, everyone laughing. It’s a poem that hits the mark, exactly. It’s sitting in your office doing good, hard work. It’s the sun hitting wet grass. It’s a soft breeze. It’s the view from a known ridge.
Happiness is the small things, and if we can string our lives on these, holding on until the next homemade lasagna or the voice of a loved one on the phone, not letting our insides take over and whisper dark nothings in our ear, we could be continually happy, joyful, letting the small lovely things be enough. Jessica
Causes Jessica Inclán Supports
Women for Women International Goodwill Industries Lindsey Wildlife Museum Freecycle.org