Happiness

My little sister and I use to fight every single night about who got to sit next to my dad at the diner table. My mom would make us switch each day so we both had a turn. And then one day we just stopped. We grew up. My sister and would hook the leash on our dog Buddy and walk to the end of the block and wait for my dad to drive by after work and let us all ride around the block with him. And then one day we just stopped. We grew up.  About a year after my dad died, my mom cleaned out his wallet and gave me a post it note she found tucked away in one of the pockets. The paper was folded the creases thin and fragile, almost translucent. I had written in my best first grade handwriting Laura loves John. And he kept it all those years. 

Some days it is so hard to STOP. Just stop. Because even though addi is only 4 and Easton is one one there are things that one day they just stopped. One day they are so small you hold them on your chest and then they grow up and they are on you hip and then they grow up and you don't hold them anymore. 

Sometimes we need to stop looking so hard for happiness. It is right there staring us in the face. Happiness is a husband that brings you a diet dr pepper at 7:30 a.m.  It's a little girl that tells you that you are her favorite and then gives you a big wink that her daddy taught her.  It's a little boy that hovers at your legs when a stranger is near because you're his home base his safe place. Happiness is all right here.