Happiness is ....

I saw something this evening that was really nice, in fact it was sweet. A young woman, I suppose about 18 or 20 years old, holding a mobile phone to her ear and, oblivious of every one or anything, apart from her very apparent happiness, was hopping, skipping, spinning around and just gracefully ‘cavorting’ as she made her way down the side walk. She was very happy. I just caught a fleeting glimpse of her as I drove past on the way home but just seeing that she was happy, lifted my spirits.

Then after I got home I walked to our local post office to post a letter. On the way there I was greeted by another very pleasant sight that lifted my spirits even further. My daughter and son-in-law, who live quite close by, were out riding their bicycles, each with a baby seat on the back, and in each seat was one of their daughters, my little grand-daughters. The little ones were in their PJs; had been bathed and fed and were just being taken on an ‘after supper ride’. They are only just 26 months and 12 months old, so they are still little.

The older one has the curious habit of turning her dummy so that the cut out, which is supposed to fit under the nose, is to one side. It looks wrong, but if you turn it so that it is ‘right’ she turns it straight back. Strange little thing! Still with her dummy in her mouth she said a very distorted, “See ya!” as they rode away.

Walking back home after all this I reflected on what makes us happy. It is just the little things, isn’t it? Seeing someone who is obviously happy; seeing my daughter, happy, with her family, happy and enjoying themselves; it is feeling the evenings drawing in and becoming cooler as autumn descends; it is walking home to where my wife is (this year will be our 30th anniversary); it is recalling things which please me, poetry and music – all simple things. These simple things bring contentment from which fleeting moments of happiness and joy seem to spring. We cannot force it. These special moments just seem to arrive, uncalled.

One of my favourite poems is “The day is done,” by the American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He was a very fine man and the last two verses of this poem go like this:
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.

All this contrasts so much with what transpired at work today – it is like a different world!!