I hardly sat down to write about happiness. What do I know about it? Have I known it? Have I had it and lost it? Have I stolen a few moments of happiness in this life? Maybe I have, I have had moments of happiness, they lasted as long as those fireworks I used to light on holidays, hold in my hand at 12 o’clock at night on New Year’s Eve: bright for a few moments, maybe a minute, then the smoke and the smell were left behind.
And yet, as critical as I am of myself, as cynical as I sometimes am, I think I had moments of happiness. Here are some of the forms it has taken over the years. So happiness has been:
An ice cream cone on a hot day when I was little;
A cake my mother made in winter, especially since she didn’t like to make them and we couldn’t find good sweets in those days;
The journey to the sea every summer holiday by train;
Holidays in the country, in summer, when the day seemed never-ending, when I had the luxury of being bored;
A macaroon and a glass of champagne in Paris, in a place where I could see the world;
The smell of books, in a bookshop, on the Boulevard Saint Germain, near the Cafe de Flore;
A book I can’t wait to come home to, so much do I miss the way it’s written;
A laughing child;
A show that makes me want to cry with joy;
Moelleux au chocolat;
Landing after a parachute jump;
The moments after an exam, a lecture, a presentation, that I stressed so much about, that I dreaded. My doubts always on duty seemed to paralyze me, and then, when it all ended well, happiness was at an all-time high. Strange though how moments of happiness can mix with periods of great worry;
Good feedback from a more introverted customer when it comes to showing appreciation;
An unexpected message from a friend I haven’t spoken to in a long time, asking how I’m doing.
Hot summer days, when I can feel the salt of the seawater on my skin and remember holidays, passions, the immensity of a life I thought I had ahead of me then, long ago…
The narrowing of the space between two bodies, like the closing of a door that leaves nothing but a pale ray of light visible;
All this and more, some small, some great, adds up to my happiness.
What does happiness mean to you?