The Bright Light of Happiness

I’ll be the first to admit I’m as crazy about Christmas lights as my kids always were when they were little. So when they have to come down, out of the trees and off the bushes outside, it’s kind of sad. I can no longer see my house from up the road anymore; it’s no longer distinguishable in the dark by its sparkling white lights that guide me home.

I used to feel a little refreshed when January would roll around, but that was when I still had my children at home, or at least both of them living nearby. Now once the holidays are over, the youngest who lives on his own now, stays busy, and my oldest lives 2000 miles away in Vermont.

January was always about second chances and new life graces, peeling back the layers of regret’s and starting all over again, with a new attitude and a little extra pep in your step.

But now it’s about people leaving, people that I may not see again for another three hundred and sixty-five days which seems like a lifetime to me when I say it out loud.

So many changes can happen in a year, so many life changes or changes to people from life and happenstance in general. We all start off with such hope, but when you get a little older, you already know, that there will inevitably be some sadness that comes with that happiness as well.

Remember when you were younger?  I don’t think I ever thought past the minute I was living in. And if I did, it was only about the next sleepover, or the cute new boy I saw moving into our neighborhood before winter break, wondering if he would be in any of my classes when school started back.

I sure as heck didn’t worry about much of anything else. I didn’t go borrowing trouble before it came to find me. It seems kind of like we spend a lot of our time doing that when we get older doesn’t it? Borrowing trouble I mean – worrying about things that haven’t even come to pass yet, and may not ever.

That’s the pit-falls of being an adult, already knowing all the realities, because even if they haven’t happened to you, they have happened to someone you know, so it’s like we just sit, and wait for it happen to us too.

Wouldn’t it be so much healthier for us all if we could just enjoy the days as they come. Be glad for the good ones, the ones without sickness or grief, the days that only bring laughter and happy tears of joy.

I’m fifty-four years old now and I’ll be the first to say, it’s hard to change old worry-wart habits. But I sure would like to be that young girl again, the one who wakes up smiling, with no aches and pains, and greets the world with nothing but excitement instead of wariness of what’s to come.

And to always see – to always imagine - the sparkling white lights in this world – even when there are none.