Is it possible to steal happiness?
.
Reading The Book Thief on the bus home, I came across that question.
.
I’d imagine it is possible, but I think the best sort of happiness is shared, not stolen. I also think the best happiness comes from the moments that anyone can have if they open their eyes to them.
.
Walking home in the fading daylight, under silver clouds, it began to rain.
It was warm sprinkling rain, the type that makes you linger instead of walk faster. The kind of rain you welcome to patter against your skin.
.
In my hands, I carried a pot of African Violets with silver and fuchsia petals. Velvet, a tickling of tiny hairs running over the leaves.
.
There is freshness in the extra hour of day now, in the air that holds the light for you just until you reach your doorstep.
It’s this last hour of light I hold onto like a gift, a chance to breathe in the tease of long summer nights.
An hour for slow walks home.
An hour for peaceful happiness.
.
Reading The Book Thief on the bus home, I came across that question.
.
I’d imagine it is possible, but I think the best sort of happiness is shared, not stolen. I also think the best happiness comes from the moments that anyone can have if they open their eyes to them.
.
Walking home in the fading daylight, under silver clouds, it began to rain.
It was warm sprinkling rain, the type that makes you linger instead of walk faster. The kind of rain you welcome to patter against your skin.
.
In my hands, I carried a pot of African Violets with silver and fuchsia petals. Velvet, a tickling of tiny hairs running over the leaves.
.
There is freshness in the extra hour of day now, in the air that holds the light for you just until you reach your doorstep.
It’s this last hour of light I hold onto like a gift, a chance to breathe in the tease of long summer nights.
An hour for slow walks home.
An hour for peaceful happiness.
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