No Key to Happiness

This is my happy place. Sitting on the floor in Ryan's room with my computer and my camera. I know that no matter what kind of day I've had, I'll end up here, having a quiet moment for myself and for my baby.

I spend hours a day with teenagers. And a lot of the time I walk away wondering if I've been heard. I don't have to worry about that here, in this place. I know that no matter what, Ryan, at least, is hearing what my heart has to say on any given day. And that alone gives me some peace. A little bit of happiness at the end of a long day.

"There is no key to happiness. The door is always open." (Mother Theresa)

Having recently spent some time locked out of the happiness party, I can't say I totally agree with this statement. Or rather, sure. Maybe the door is open, but sometimes it's a damn near impossible door to find. Sometimes we're so lost in a maze of doors that lead to nowhere, or to sadness, anger, jealousy, and fear, that we quit trying to find the happiness door. Because we're too tired. Because we want to feel the sadness for a while. 

It took me some time to find that open door. Especially since I wasn't always looking for it. And all this time it was just across the hall from my bedroom. A door to a room that should feel sad. And it does. Sometimes. But mostly it's somewhere I can come to feel a bit of happiness. Because he lives here. And in this room, I can just be alone with him. And I can forget work. Forget stress. Forget responsibilities. 

No, there is no key to happiness. But it's not always easy to find. And when you do, you have to hold on to it for as long as you can. Because eventually, it'll slip away, and you've got to go off in search of it again. At least that's what I do, when I open Ryan's door every night. I find a little bit of happiness.