Happiness used to be my freckles coming back for summer, sleepovers, book club, and Sunny D.
Now happiness is being warm, cosy and safe indoors when it’s raining, documentaries on a Sunday night and being hangover-free after 12 hours of being young, reckless and free.
Happiness feels like fresh bed sheets, a deep breath and the sugary ending of a hot cup of tea. It feels like fluffy towels after hot baths, gin and tonic with a lemon slice and a good hair day.
Happiness was never a designer handbag that held the keys to an expensive car and a bulging purse. It was never a roar of adoration that came with fame or even contentment that comes with a consistently perfect life.
My happiness is a coffee and a long chat with my sister, white wine and laughs with friends and inside jokes and forehead kisses with a soul mate…and feeling content on my own. So as I sit here solo and sound my happiness is now fluffy pajamas plucked from my radiator, a steamy bowl of ramen, and the process of selecting a new book to lose myself in for an hour or so, and the thought that today I made me happy.
Today I found happiness…