A Place Called Happiness…

It should have been a simple question.  “What does being happy mean to you, Mom?” my daughter asked me tonight while doing a survey for her Psychology class. 

What does being happy mean to me?  It seems so long since I actually felt happy.  Oh, I know there are moments… hours…maybe parts of a day when I feel happy.  Is that what happiness is?  Or is there more?

I don’t know what makes me happy anymore with any sort of certainty, except my children.  When I think of how I would like to feel at the end of my life, happy isn’t the word I think of.  I think of contentment, peacefulness, satisfaction.  Is that what happiness is for everyone else?  Or am I missing something?

Will I ever get there, to this place they call happiness?  Is there such a place?