Philosophers and others with time on their hands debate happiness a lot. Is it a sensation or a feeling or a state of mind? Is it's pursuit an inalienable constitutional right? Should I be pursuing meaningfulness instead?
So I cast my mind back, trying to find what made me happy in the last few days. Observing the rosettes of bluebonnets rising up from the damp spring earth at Lariat Ridge made me joyful. Watching a spider web that had collected dew drops sparkling like diamonds in the morning light at St. Edwards park filled me with wonder. Reading Evan's homework about adaptations in dolphins and jellyfish (delfines y medusae) filled me with hope. Seeing Vivian try out shades at Gap filled me with love. Telling her "No, I won't buy them" made me feel like a hard-ass-dad-machine. Feeling the heft of our every growing bundle of travel documents filled me with sense of accomplishment.
But happy? I was happy seeing a couple of guys hauling off our old washer/dryer and install a new set after two and a half weeks of laundrylessness and three aborted attempts to fix it. And driving away from the dealership in what I hope is the very last gasoline powered non-self-driving car I ever buy - that made me happy too.
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