A friend who has thought a ton about it summed up the controversy around happiness. 

 

"You are already happy. You just want to be happier."

 

That notion has percolated in my mind for the month since I first heard it.

 

-ier. Happier.

 

If I admit the premise that there is already joy within reach, it is kindling enough to start a flame. 

 

There are squirrels outside my window that skitter with the busyness of finding acorns for their coming cold. Crunchy leaves dance across the yard, responding to the music of the wind. Sunflowers are smiling at me across the table. 

 

Butternut squash soup is on the stove, golden from months of sunbathing. Bread is in the toaster, with a pot of honey to sweeten it. A quilt is tucked across my lap, with warmth stored up from the hours I spent making it. 

 

The sound of my daughter in law's crystal voice is playing a private concert for me on the computer. I can listen as many times as I like. 

 

Hummus and red peppers are in the fridge, with spotted bananas and mandarin oranges in a handmade ceramic bowl on the table. My belly is full. 

 

I could strain my neck to look for what I do not have. Or I can snuggle into the sounds and smells and softness of what is right here.