Happy
It’s 12:26 p.m. and I’m in the elevator with my dad making our way down from the 7th floor. It’s cold and it’s raining and neither one of us managed to bring an umbrella. I’m staring at my shoes, which still haven’t completely dried off from my walk to work in the morning, and my father is staring at me.
“You need to write about what makes you happy” my father says. He says it with a sigh, and I hear it with a shudder. You need to write about what makes you happy.
I’ve had a rough couple of days. And a rough couple of weeks leading up to those days. I get down on myself. And then I get down on myself for feeling down. I realize that it’s a vicious circle that mostly leads to self-doubt and writers block. I’m not interested in that.
So, what makes me happy?
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| These weirdos are my very favorites |
What makes me happy is coziness; Soft blankets and warm laughter and places that feel like home. What makes me happy is endless Gilmore Girls episodes on Netflix, where the one liners are fast and the dialogue flies. What makes me happy is mug after mug of tea that’s just under the temperature where it burns my tongue, with one sugar packet and a splash of milk. What makes me happy is ‘Let’s Dance to Joy Division’ played on repeat for hours while I dance around my room and scream all the lyrics.
What makes me happy is fleece socks that keep my feet warm and changing in to pajama pants as soon as i get home from work. What makes me happy is the Barnes and Noble up two blocks and the bagel place right next door. What makes me happy is walking around the block, syncing up my steps to the beats of the music drifting through my headphones.
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| Also red lipstick and phone selfies. No shame. |
What makes me happy is the family that loves me. The texts from my brother and the phone calls from my mom. The conversations in the elevator with my dad. What makes me happy is the skype calls from friends up and down the east coast and friends in time zones a little farther away. What makes me happy is the co-workers who occasionally, when the days have been long and they are feeling tired, laugh at my lame jokes.
And what makes me happy is self-reflection. What makes me happy is writing. What makes me happy is putting things out into the world and being able to say “That’s mine. I made that.”
Which is, i suppose, another way of saying that you make me happy. You, the person on the other side of this screen. So thanks for letting me do this. Thanks for reading my words. Thanks for putting up with my emotional downs and my emotional ups. Thanks for letting me be happy. 
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