However you tell your story, your story depicting happiness in your life or showing us what makes you happy, it’s the right way to tell your story.
Simple. Clever. Cute. Complex. However it goes, it’s the right way to tell it.
Mine starts each morning. I’m especially happy (and hopeful) when the sun is shining brightly into my kitchen. I see this as I make my coffee.
Some days, cool things happen, like my daughter appreciating her Dad on his birthday.
I love Saturdays when we are all in the mood to play a little bit of Rock Band. I love my husband who helps me so much and worries that I could be overdoing it just because I’ve vacuumed. A father that loves his children so deeply…all of his children.
And a girl that loves to help me bake. (and she’s good at it, too!) A girl that remembers her baby brothers and talks of them often, she comes up with ways to memorialize them, I am so proud of her and her love. “We need ornaments for James and Jake,” she says. “Then we will get them.“ I reply.
And a boy who is learning to read (and who loves it, too!) A boy who includes the baby in my belly when playing Rock Band wishing that he could send “a tiny drum set into my belly for it to play with it’s family.”
And then, at the end of the day, I sit down on the couch and I look up and see these symbols of my family, including the little one to come and I feel such happiness that it takes my breath away.
I never knew happy could feel this good.
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