Happiness Is - Chapter 4

And that same person—the one who is so annoyingly lovable—will quietly say, “I love you,” in whatever way he knows how.

Maybe with a tight embrace.

Maybe with a gentle smile.

Maybe with a playful tap on her head accompanied by:

“You’re the craziest girl I’ve ever loved.”

Maybe with a hurried kiss—on her cheek, then her chin...

And finally, her lips.

That would probably be enough to make her faint on the spot.

But that person still seems to be a very long way away.

And perhaps he is just as busy thinking about the crazy little girl who will someday be his.

So there is no need to hurry.

Why rush when love will still be there, waiting patiently, and isn't going anywhere?

For now, happiness is really that simple.

Riding her bicycle.

Running until her legs give out.

Being someone’s little sister.

Being Mom and Dad’s daughter.

Being the cheeky, overly sensitive niece who cries at the slightest thing in front of her aunts and uncles and grandparents.

Being the ridiculously hyper, affectionate, nosy, stubborn, short-tempered older sister who always takes her little brother’s side—the tenth-grader who has to put up with all of her nonsense.

And so on.

And on.

And on.

Her happiness, even now, is still far too big to fit into words.

So why should she walk around looking miserable just because of some thoughtless boy?

Or some tiny little failure?

Or one nasty fall that scrapes her knee open?

Or one spectacular bonk on the head that makes everything go clang?

Why rush to the conclusion, “Why is life nothing but sadness?”

She has grown up.

That does not necessarily mean she has become mature.

But neither is she still the little child who stares wide-eyed at the world, asking it a hundred questions.

She is allowed to be childish sometimes.

She is allowed to give herself another two years.

Three years.

Ten years, perhaps.

But not an entire lifetime to wait until she finally grows up “properly.”

And because of that, she should learn to be happier—even when sadness keeps showing up, trying to knock her down.

A smile does not necessarily mean you are happy.

But that does not mean crying cannot, in its own strange way, make you feel better.

So be honest with yourself.

And perhaps be a little less harsh with this small, imperfect human being that you are.

Loving yourself does not mean spoiling yourself.

It means helping yourself stay younger, healthier, and more capable of loving—loving yourself, loving others, loving those who have loved you, those you love now, those you have not loved yet, and those you may someday fall in love with.

It means loving this life a little longer.

Much longer.

Longer than you ever thought possible.

Happiness is not something enormous.

It is not some distant, unreachable thing that you spend your whole life trying to “hold on to” but can never quite grasp.

Happiness is simple.

It is ordinary.

It lives in everyday moments.

So don't turn happiness into something unnecessarily grand and unattainable, something you imagine forever slipping farther and farther away until you eventually give up searching for it.

Gather the little pieces of happiness.

One by one.

And someday, you may look back and realize that all those tiny moments have quietly become something wonderfully, beautifully whole.

A great happiness made from a thousand little ones.