Spoken in Whispers

The best thing about getting older is the fact that after years of trail and error, you come to a better understanding of how to create your own happiness, how to find your own joy. And the best part of the discovery is realizing how much simpler it is than you once imagined.

Happiness is about small moments. It's deciding to abandon housework when you're feeling impatient and frustrated. Choosing instead to go for a walk on a gray autumn day, because gray days have a special kind of beauty, and the golden reeds and the winged sumac look even more stunning against the somber skies. Muddy kids steal your heart. And the rustling of dry leaves is the perfect soundtrack for your fumbling emotions.

You learn that happiness is also quieter than you imagined. Waiting for you at the edges.  There for the taking.

On Monday, my heart hurt. It felt ready to splinter into two dozens jagged pieces. I've never been very good at puzzles, so it seemed wiser to do what I could to keep it intact. Because even if all the king's horses and all the king's men had been there, they too would have failed to put it together again. 

So I set about making right choices. Praying and thanking. Pursuing positivity. Abandoning all else. But I also made small, practical good decisions. I choose good food, fresh air, movement, dirt, and play. 

Age has taught me. When I went to bed that night, I feel asleep with a whole heart. A sad heart, yes, but a whole sad heart. 

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