I dug through the container full of Hot Wheels cars with you this morning. I had no idea what we were looking for but you asked for help so we dug. And dug and dug and dug.
There are probably close to 300 of them. That estimate is based on how many trips to the grocery store we have made in your lifetime, plus the packs of them you’ve gotten for birthdays and Christmas, plus the hand me downs.
You were so happy I was beside you digging. You were chatting with me and smiling.
Usually I don’t agree to help you. I don’t know why, really, except sometimes saying “no, I can’t help you right now” is easier.
You requested I watch your cars race over and over and over. I watched. I asked questions. We talked about which car was the fastest and what made his car faster.
This is what I am supposed to be doing, this is how our world should work. Do this every day. My thoughts, in a nutshell.
We made a fort on the couch and then you made me go in the playroom because I was a Bergen. And I couldn’t find you until the party started.
We laughed together while I chased you around pretending to be miserable and needing to eat you, the Troll, to be happy.
We talked about happiness and how you can find happiness within.
Then we put on Laurie Berkner, danced, sang, and chased each other around the house.
We laughed some more.
It’s only 11:00 and I’m spent. Exhausted. In need of a nap. Doing the things I want to do in my heart don’t always agree with what’s happening in my mind.
But days like these make me stronger. Pure happiness. Not given from anything other than attention, love, connection.
The things that truly matter. Do this everyday, I remind myself, and everyone will know how to be happy.