happiness is

Chapter 1

Happiness is running out into the alley and seeing Mom in the distance, pedaling her bicycle home beneath an evening sky whose golden light has long since faded.

Happiness is sitting comfortably in front of the television, listening to the low rumble of a truck somewhere outside, and then catching the faintest sound of Dad coming home.

Happiness is lying beside your sister on an old straw mat that has long since lost its freshness, both of you barely keeping your eyes open, yawning every few seconds. And then Mom comes in, her conical hat dripping with rain, gently swinging two little cups of yogurt in her hands.

Suddenly, neither of you is sleepy anymore.

And you find yourself wondering, “Was I really falling asleep just now?”

Happiness is the time before there was a little brother—when Dad could carry his little girl on his back and run all around the village. He would laugh, she would laugh, and together they were the funniest, happiest, chubbiest father-and-daughter duo in the neighborhood.

Happiness is that even after her little brother came along, Dad still took her out every morning. She would chatter away happily to his friends, proudly introducing herself with the words:

“I’m his daughter...”

Happiness is holding a red crayon in your hand and confidently telling your little brother, “Brown is the prettiest color!”

Because back then, brown sounded like the fanciest color in the whole world to her.

And, naturally, her little brother would nod enthusiastically, completely convinced.

Happiness is receiving a little prize wrapped in shiny, glittering paper, convinced that it looks so much more beautiful than the prizes all the other “kids” in kindergarten received.

It was only years later that she discovered the truth:

Mom had bought that prize for her.

She had not even been old enough to attend kindergarten yet.

Happiness is when Mom and Dad buy you a bright yellow Pikachu, yellow as a baby chick, after you have been trembling with excitement while waiting for Mom to finish buying you ice cream.

And then, without a second thought, you are willing to throw away all the new notebooks you had just received at the school award ceremony—just so you can squeal with delight and throw your arms around your precious little “Pika... Pika-chu.”

Happiness is suddenly discovering that birthdays exist.

Happiness is having two people remember your birthday, and actually receive presents on that wonderfully special day—March 26, the day you were accidentally registered as being born on March 26. wink

She was a rather peculiar child.

When she discovered this amusing little coincidence, she decided she rather liked calling herself a Taurus.

But if March 26 came and went and no one remembered that precious date, she would curl up with her favorite pillow, shed a few miserable tears, and whisper:

“Mom and Dad forgot about me...”

Happiness is being called into the vice principal’s office, only to hear him beckon with a smile:

“Hey, little darkie, you won a prize!”

“I only remember this little dark-haired girl... hehe.”

And just like that, she would pedal her bicycle home as if she were floating among the clouds.

Mom, of course, would always have something to say.

“Look at my daughter’s silly little face.”

And honestly, from the moment she was born, hadn’t she always been Mom’s silly little girl?

“That goofy little face of yours was already there the day you were born...”

Happiness is getting a day off from school and spending it splashing around in the water with your little brother. It is sitting behind Mom on her bicycle, watching the traffic rush past as horns blare impatiently all around you. It is playing hide-and-seek with Dad. It is pretending to be fast asleep so that Uncle will carry you back to bed.

Happiness is sitting up straight and watching Journey to the West without Grandpa around to say, “Let me watch the news first.”