Happiness Radar

Curt's 096 DSCN3890

As a fiction writer, I’ve always got my radar out for unusual characters — people who respond to life in unexpected ways.  I’m not so interested in eccentric or misunderstood individuals —  they’re already established types in modern fiction.   But the unusually brave, intelligent, compassionate — yes, even happy! — people we see around us or connect with in cyberspace? They are most interesting.  I watch and listen to them, wanting to learn:  Why do you feel that?  Why would you do that?   Who are you really?  And I write, because I want others to know them too.

I could see Will in my mind’s eye, sitting on the post office steps. I felt the happiness that stole over him in a moment, when I read what he wrote in his blog. What he’d discovered should have unsettled him: as a college sophomore, he was an unmarried father. But he seemed deliriously happy. Was I misreading him? I only know what he wrote. –Jeanne Hammond

I watch the glassy headlights of turning cars, the streetlights as they bloom a teary yellow. Somehow in this dim dazzle my mind presents a thought, one clear as a signal change. Maria’s child is my child. That fact and its startling rightness push out of my lungs like a war whoop: Arrgaahh! I’m up and running to the circle at Union Station, my old ground zero. Arms in the air, I exhale and think, Oh, my God. I want to call Maria immediately, but she doesn’t have a cell phone. I stand and look up at the ink-blue sky. The tree giant flagpoles clink. Only one flag still undulates above, its stripes spot-lit. I watch those patriot waves in silent animation, until a maintenance man in a jumpsuit yanks the pulley hard, and the flag flies clean off the line. It floats up, then down, down, to soft-land on my head –- for I do a quick break-dance to keep it off the ground. Quixote’s back! Yes, and the idiot wearing his country’s stripes is going to be a father! And I feel joy. That’s the only word for it. I brood on two facts — that I exist in particular, and that another particular person will exist because of me. He or she will be related to who I am, somehow. A new someone is undeniably coming, someone I will know and help care for. I think about this, as I walk back to campus along Massachusetts Avenue. All that’s left of January’s white-gray drifts are the salt lines from where the ice and snow have receded. Scrappy urban trees are budding day-glow green, and I feel I’ve got life by its newly minted fingertips.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Robert Hartwell

Helpful information and reflections on the church, education, and best business practices.

theunfetteredpreacher

The Word without religion

Memee's Musings

Thoughts about life, death, and the world around me.

Such Small Hands

Searching for Purpose and Finding Grace

Sacerdotus

Blogging about God, Faith, the Catholic Church and other worldly issues. All original posts are Copyright Sacerdotus 2005-2016. All Rights Reserved.

Personhood Education

THE NEW PRO-LIFE PARADIGM FOR THE 21ST CENTURY

Caritas in Veritate

The blog of Father John Boyle

Daily (w)rite

A DAILY RITUAL OF WRITING

%d bloggers like this: