Today, happiness is a quiet moment. It's sitting cross-legged on my bed at my mother's house, enjoying the stillness. It's the way the sunlight pours in the window and drifts slowly towards me as the afternoon ticks by. It's eating slices of bakery bread spread thick with butter and drinking coffee from my very favorite ceramic mug. It's the fact that mixed into my messy sheets are two magazines, one literary journal, one travel guidebook, and a few novels, like little word-surprises lost in the wilds of my bedding.
It's my dog, rotating from room to room to follow the sun for her naps. It's the way a house feels when everyone in it is quietly absorbed in something, or resting. It's the way my body feels after a morning run in the fresh air and the bright light. It's the anticipation of dinner tonight in the company of old friends.
But mostly, it's in the awareness that spring is a real thing, an actual guarantee that is walking steadily towards me. And it's the knowledge that, if you let it, peace will always follow the dark, in the same way that flowers will always stretch towards the warmth and that the stars are always there, hiding behind the sun glare or the light pollution or some wispy clouds. Whether you can see them or not, they're always there, glinting effortlessly down, like an invisible promise. Like faith.
I'm not one for religion, so Easter as a holiday is something that is lost entirely on me. But any day set aside to celebrate rebirth, that happens at the start of spring, is an excellent way to mark the end of the dark and the walk into the light.
Also, jelly beans are really good, but mostly the jolly rancher kind. Like, honestly. That shit is delicious.
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