There’s laughter all around me, floating in from where the door was left ajar. It’s the contagious kind, making its presence known in every nook and cranny of the orphanage, so loudly, that my own lopsided smile sits on my face. I sit surrounded by an island of old toys and drawings, the other half of which seems to be the source of the happiness around. They sit in a disarray of fallen cartons and a messy bedroom. Materiality isn’t everything. I wish someone had told my 5-year-old self that because, apparently, my penchant for hoarding knew no limit. 

I reach forward and pull up a little plaque ; hastily drawn scribbles in bright blue line the border. The handy work and effort of a kindergartener at best. In slightly more legible writing though, I see it : an amusing confirmation that this indeed is my work. It’s easy to see how my ambitions and inspirations haven’t all changed since my childhood. 

“The best things in life are unexpected” 

Grabbing the plaque, I slowly stand up, brushing the non-existent creases off of my denim while carefully toeing over the toys. I pin it on the wall directly parallel to my bed. And then, as though led by a sudden urge, I move closer to where the laughter originates. I stop at the bottom step leading to the courtyard, the floor spread before me. It should feel a bit weird, seeing those little keepsakes from my childhood being someone else’s now. But I couldn’t care less. Not when I can see the unbridled glee filling the eyes of the kids as they throw the stuffed bunny around.

“Sorry Mr. Peter, you’re in their hands now” I mutter under my breath, in adieu to the bunny.

I’m about to descend further down when Mr. Peter lands at my feet. I lift my head up and see a little boy looking apologetically towards the toy. I reach down and grab it, slowly extending my hand - offering it to him. He cautiously extends his own hand, but I pull mine back at the last second.

I give him a mischievous smile - “Well if you're going to throw things at me, the least you can do is fight for it!” And with that, I take off across the courtyard. There’s stunned silence for a second before pairs of little footsteps start chasing after me, shouting names with all the maturity and might that only they could have.

In times like these, it hits me like a reminder - Happiness is inconsistent but my search for it is not and that is …… exciting, to say the least. After all that’s been spent and all that’s been spoken, I think there’s a little space between those ever so little moments. A space where if there’s still time and something to give left, I’d say ……. why not save it for ourselves?  And quite honestly, aren't there much worse ways to live? 

After all, the best things in life are unexpected!