I am sitting at the breakfast table, alone, wondering what I should do today, tomorrow, or next week. I really don’t have an answer.

What would make me happy? Is it happiness I’m looking for?

I’m tapping the keys of my computer and I can’t think of anything that makes me happy. Isn’t that sad?

Sure, I like to get my nails done. I also like to curl up with a good book. And a hot cup of fresh brewed coffee is amazing. But do these things make me really happy?

Kisses from George brings a smile to my face. Talking with my daughters is definitely a plus. Reading stories and playing with my grandchildren is always fun.

Making travel plans is exciting. Buying new shoes or finding an attractive scarf or a sparkly piece of jewelry is joyful. Hanging with girlfriends is exhilarating, as is attending painting and writing classes. Sitting in the warm sun doing absolutely nothing is this side of heaven, too.

When I read all the above things that make me smile or warm my heart, I know I am happy during each event. And when I looked up “happy” in the dictionary the words: content, lucky, blissful and delighted describe that feeling you get when you bite into a chocolate-caramel-pecan candy. But “happy” is a moment, a nanosecond, a temporary feeling that can vanish like vapor. Happiness is fleeting.

Today, sitting here, alone, with a lukewarm cup of java, I still wonder what makes me happy.  Until I figure it out, I think I’ll take a long, hot shower, rub my skin with lotion that smells like Christmas trees, put on my new lacy underwear, wrap myself up in my pink cuddly robe and take a nap.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s