Happiness Changes as We Age
Just like the trees
My neighbor’s eight-year-old grandson is visiting for three weeks. Every time I see him, he is smiling. He’s happy and smiling when he goes to walk the dog with his grandpa. He’s happy and smiling when he hops into the car to go grocery shopping with his grandma. Last night I’d just made a batch of molasses cookies and I saw him outside with a bag of Chips Ahoy. I shouted, “Hey, you want some cookies?”
“I have cookies,” he said, pointing to the bag, smiling, but also looking confused.
“You want some more?” I asked, and his smile widened as he came running across the street to gather more cookies for himself and his family.
I love seeing his happy face, his ever-present smile. When do we stop being happy like that?
Last week my family had a reunion in a mountain town about six hours from our home. My mother and her three daughters and all of our kids, my aunt and her three kids and all of their kids, gathered from all corners of the country. Together we were twenty-five people.
My partner and I drove one car and our eighteen-year-old daughter and niece drove another. We caravanned so the girls could leave a little bit early if the family time got too intense. I also thought it would be fun for them to have a mini road trip before they…
