Happiness was sitting in the old worn down recliner in my grandparent’s sunroom; while slowly drifting off to sleep with one foot sticking out from under a hand stitched quilt. Fighting sleep with heavy eyes because I was reading through a new poetry book.
Happiness used to be sitting shotgun in a car with the windows down while the wind kissed my cheek before flirtatiously grazing my hair. Not even hearing my own thoughts the music played so loud in the background.
Happiness used to be pumpkin lattes in the fall while sitting on the front porch and watching the leaves fight to hold on to the trees that wanted nothing more than to shed them. Not knowing of course that next year they would return rested and not so frail and fragile.
Happiness was watching the rain fall from the window above my sink and lighting a candle when the sky became too heavy to hold the sun.
Happiness was little things, little moments here and there that put a smile on my face and gave me something to hope for.
Happiness used to be all that but now happiness is you.
