happiness

Sage, along with the many who prayed for rain, is very happy today. The heavy downpour meant no school for her today.

"Good for you, not so good for me," I told her as I searched for an umbrella.

"Why, Dad?"

"Well, I still have to go to work, even if I have to swim to get there," I told her. "Now where's my giant umbrella?"

"I'll go with you, Dad!"

"What?"

"I'll stay with you in your office so you don't feel lonely."

I looked at my daughter, nodded my head and told her to put her boots on.

We held hands as we walked in the rain, tramping through shallow puddles, protected by my giant umbrella.

At my office, she sat by my side, spelling out things that make her happy on a piece of paper while munching on a hash brown. She laughed at her spelling of "beach" since she missed the "a".

"I spelled "bech", Dad," she said.

"Here," I said, offering the missing letter. "I'm glad the beach makes you happy."

"What about you, Dad? What makes you happy?"

And I was transfixed for a moment, looking into the eyes of the answer.