Definition no. 10
Happiness is a parcel.
The one I am about to receive in a few days.
I know already what’s inside!
All my beloved ones.
All those I belong to, all those who are part of me.
All those who helped me grow to who I am: my parents, my grand-parents, my aunts, my uncles, my friends, my colleagues, family friends, important moments of my life, my dog. In black and white and colors.
It’s a cardboard box, torn by the kilometers it had to travel before it reaches me. With a scrapped address on top, with stickers on the side, with a small opening at one of the corners where curious eyes have scrutinized the content in search of smuggling signs.
If I could, I would traffic all the goodies inside!
I would share them for free and hope that people would feel as happy as I do when I open this magic present.
That they would all miss their moms, so far away, so loving and caring;
They would all miss their dads…
That they would all think back to their wonderful childhood times at Christmas;
That they would all laugh and forget that that are responsible adults;
That they would bite full mouth into the jam cookies;
That they would feel butterflies in their stomach when they discover inside it a tiny little package nicely wrapped with their names on it;
That they would open it and not cry… but then, why not cry? You are in the right place there where your tears are.
That they would take a deep breath of home perfume and hold it inside them to allow it’s healing powers to wipe the wrinkles of their hearts and foreheads;
That they would lit the candle;
That they would pray;
That they would be grateful for being where they are; for living their lives and having the hearts to miss
Happiness is a generous magic cardboard parcel.