What makes you happy?
I’m talking about the little things here. The daily moments that make you sigh contentedly or hug yourself inside or grin big.
Driving to work I see a small child’s hand out the back window of a car, fingers trailing in the airstream. It makes me happy.
In a crowded restaurant, the briefest of eye contacts lets me know that G and I are sharing the same private joke. It makes me happy.
Unable to sleep at night, I re-live travels – walking through the forests of Bohemia last summer, camel trekking in the Negev, drinking Arabic coffee with cardamom in Jerusalem, traversing London by Underground, lying on my back in the grass in the middle of Avebury Stone Circle. This makes me happy too.
I’m cooking dinner when a certain song starts playing. G comes over and holds me for a few moments without speaking. Words not needed – that makes me happy.
These moments make me happy:
The sound of my son singing unselfconsciously along to a love song.
G’s daughter resting her head on my shoulder when I read to her.
G’s arm curled around my tummy as I fall asleep.
Diving under that first ocean wave on any given morning. The golden light in the hour before sunset. Singing loudly in the car. People watching. Taking photographs. Eating an avocado pear. Wandering around bookstores touching the silky new covers. Finding beautiful texts and fonts somewhere unexpected. Lying on my yoga mat with my legs up the wall and my new scented eye bean bag over my eyes.
It doesn’t take something particularly huge or earth shaking to make life happy. These moments are like beads on a string, delicately threaded, deliciously unexpected, small gifts given without warning to be gathered up and treasured or enjoyed and let go.