Life is good lately. A guy sat next to me on the subway and the butterfly wings he was wearing sprinkled glitter all over the floor and my shoes. That made me smile. I have a little navy plaid cart with wheels that I take to the vegetable market and grocery store. That makes me smile too. The sun stays in the sky later and later, joining us for early dinners. There are grape hyacinths growing wild by our bus stop.  The best moments are the simple ones where Jane crawls into bed with us in the mornings and pats our faces and yells, “GROUP HUG.”

I’m finding more and more that what qualifies as a good life, for me, isn’t something hugely exciting, or fabulous, or expensive, or beautiful.

It’s peace.

Because it’s only when I have peace that I can notice the deep purple hyacinths against the bright green grass. It’s only when I have peace that I take the appropriate time to soak in Jane’s hilarity, and notice how blue her eyes are, or how she says “bamember” instead of “remember.”  It’s only when I have peace that sitting on the sofa watching Fraiser reruns while holding my husband’s hand becomes more lovely than the most extravagant dinner out.

I think when we’re young happiness looks tremendously different than it does as we get older. When you’re young happiness is grand escapes and feeling beautiful and making money and feeling the surge of excitement when things are interesting or going your way.

But as we age, happiness changes.

Happiness is feeling peace and calm joy deep down inside of our hearts. Happiness isn’t excitement, but the absence of fear. Happiness isn’t adventure, it’s belonging.

Happiness is walking home on a chilly spring day and hearing birds for the first time all winter, and knowing deep down in your heart that everything is good, and everything is going to okay.

Happiness is peace.