Happiness lives in a place, a place not far from here, that is unlike any other. It is a place I long to be. I’ve been there before, but only a few times, and they were very brief visits. Oh, but they tasted so sweet. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt. There are many names for the place in which Happiness lives, but I just used to call it home. I think a lot of other people do as well. And if they don’t, they certainly wish they could. Once upon a time, I used to visit Happiness every day, but recently, Happiness and I don’t see each other anymore. Especially these last few years, and I’m not quite sure why he has left me. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I saw my old friend. Sometimes I wonder where he is, what he’s doing. He’s probably out and about, doing marvelous things, things that Sadness hates. Happiness probably walks the halls of a lonely retirement home, crating smiles and unexpected laughs in the moments that matter most. I bet he brings cards and flowers to the sick and the dying, and mourns longingly when life is lost. He brings out the sun on a chilly March morning to warm a child’s favorite park on her birthday. But I’m almost positive he makes time for the little things, as well. Like an unexpected A+ on an English paper, an uncharacteristic bouquet of roses left on your desk from your husband, a day filled with laughter, smiles, family, and the comfort of knowing perfect days like these will come again soon. And I rejoice when I see others passing through these perfect days, I truly do. It warms my heart to know that others are happy. And if not happy, at least somewhat content. I often wonder why some people are happy while others are sad. Does Happiness show favoritism and Sadness is left with the leftover people? Or is it by choice that these few are often filled with sadness. And sadness is a terrible thing with which to be filled. Sometimes I wonder if I did something to chase Happiness away. We used to be best friends, and I never had to wonder when he would visit me next. But now, I do. I wonder quite often if I’ll ever see him again.