Happiness is walking in your front door and hearing your 13 year-old daughter and her friend in gales of laughter.
Happiness is having a chat with your 13 year-old daughter and her friend, and really enjoying the conversation.
Happiness is phoning your 13 year-old daughter’s friend’s mum and telling her that even though you have met her daughter a number of times, you haven’t met her, but you wanted to reassure the mum that her child is safe, and fed and happy. That you haven’t sold her into the white slave trade.
Happiness is hearing your 13 year-old daughter’s friend’s mum laugh and tell you she’s glad you phoned, and she’s glad the girls have made friends (what remains unsaid is that you know that your girls find it hard to meet people like them).
Happiness is knowing your girl finds it hard to meet people like her, but she finally has, and – not just that – they get on like a house on fire.
Happiness is walking into your fifteen year-old’s room while she’s on the phone to her boyfriend, and he says ‘Is that your mum? Put me on speaker, please, I’d like to say “hi” to her.’ And you and he have a lovely, comfortable chat with your fifteen year-old contributing.
Happiness is heading back downstairs and heating up food the three of you made the night before, and smiling at the memory of the assembly of the food and the discussions that led up to it.
Happiness is a glass of thick, syrupy Zinfandel on a Friday evening.
Happiness is knowing your babies are safe.
Happiness is a roof over your head.
Happiness is the little things.
Happiness is the big things.
Happiness is the little things that are huge.
Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re dancing with happiness.