I caught myself being happy the other day. Not that I'm happy infrequently, but I'm sure I don't always notice when I'm in The Happy enough to really enjoy it, take in the details, and feel the warm wash of gratitude.
I was in a school bus last Wednesday with other chaperones, teachers, and thirty-four shrieking first graders. We were going back to school after a field trip to Wilderness Park. We were all tired and dusty. I was sharing a seat with my son and his friend. I overheard enough of their conversation to know that they were giggling about something involving farts. I looked around at the other parents, a number of whom have become friends. I took in the loud excited energy, unique to a busload of seven-year olds.
While we were on the freeway, we pulled up next to a semi-truck. The kids yelled, "Horn! Horn! Horn!" and pumped their arms. The truck driver was kind enough to blow his horn for them. The kids lost their minds, screaming and cheering.
At that moment, I was happy.