drabbles

on happiness

There is something to be said in how I stand with frozen fingertips, staring down at a knitted basket holding white-pink charms and a sign that proudly proclaims, "幸せ御守". Good luck for happiness, the English translation reads. There is something to be said in how my mother tells me that I should buy the charm, as she herself buys one for safety.

There is something to be said in the way I heard the man behind me tell his companion, "那我买四个吧。" Then I'll buy four. There is something to be said in the way we queued for nearly five full minutes to buy those charms and how by the time we had reached the front the line had doubled in length.

There is something to be said in the quote, "Money can't buy happiness." There is something to be said as I pick up one of the numerous happiness-charms, just around the size of a coin, and buy it.

There is something to be said about the way I tip my head back and smile at the sky as I leave the temple, drowning in the endless blue that promises hope and light. There is something to be said in the way I ever-so-often stop on the sidewalk, careful fingers pulling up my camera to snap a picture of a flower, blooming vicariously pink or blue or purple in the sharp winter cold.

There is something to be said in the way dusk comes as it always does, weaving peach-pink wisps of cotton candy over a kaleidoscope of grey and blue and purple and orange. There is something to be said in the way the moon continues on a cyclical path of waning and filling and waning, and how on that night it was captivatingly thin as a needle and its edges were sharp enough to prick my finger and draw blood.

There is something to be said in the thrilling stab of winter, snaking its way through layers of fabric and refreshing in a way nothing else could be. There is something to be said in the warmth that is consequently brought about as well, in the way the same temperature which wouldn't bring a bat of an eye during summer can warm freezing palms during the winter.

There is something to be said in the abstract feeling of late-night car rides, racing across bumpy streets and leaving behind a trail of warm yellow street lights glowing faithfully by the roads. There is something to be said in the way a text from a close friend buzzes on the way home and I press the top of my phone against my lips to hide my smile.

There is something to be said in the way I walk over a street and find it drowning in yellow leaves, the quiet rustling as I step on them resembling the flutter of a page in a book. There is something to be said in the childish delight inflating my chest when my breath blooms out in front of my face in a foggy cloud of mist, dissipating in the morning air.

There is something to be said in the way happiness is squirrelled away in each nook and cranny of everyday life, as long as you look for it. There is something to be said in the value of a charm which costs just a few dollars when compared to the size of the world and the beauty it holds.

Happiness can't be bought. It can only be experienced, and all you have to do is look away from the anxiety of chasing it and let it seep into the crevices of your vision like sinking your fingers into sun-baked sand.