The Happiness Scale

My daughter and I have always had this question to ask one another every time we get together. It is the "Where are you now on the happiness scale?" The answer must always be between 1 and 10 with 10 being the highest possible. I surprised her recently by telling her I was an eight: I called even to let her know that my number had recently risen. She has been a nine for the past few years; that relates, I believe, to becoming a mother two years ago, having a fulfilling career that she loves, and being in a solid love relationship for the past twelve years.

Even though I usually have a somewhat optimistic personality, I have found myself in recent years falling to about a five or a six due to circumstances. These circumstances have included having a husband down-sized after twenty-six years of hard work, losing several friends and relatives who died too young, struggling financially to make ends meet, and dealing often with petty work jealousies. These losses have often kept me tenser and unhappier than I needed to be.

Sunday as I was driving into church, I was listening to National Public Radio when I heard someone say, "The closer you get to death, the more you enjoy life." I really do not know if my happiness jump is related to thinking about death more or just not having to work any longer. After forty-one years in the work force, I love the enjoyment of getting out of bed whenever I choose, not when the alarm clock comes on. I love taking an early morning walk and hearing the birds sing even on a cool February day as the people in my neighborhood one by one start their engines and roar off to their jobs. I love the freedom to light a fire in the living room, to burn a vanilla-scented candle, and to lie on the sofa with a good book like Suite Francaise by Irene Nemirovsky. I don't live by a clock any longer.

I have to say it is ironic that the circumstances of the past seem to hover ever so much quieter in the background of my life. Enjoyment of life is accompanied now by a focus on the senses: the smell of chocolate cupcakes baking in the oven, the instantaneous touch of a three year-old who grabs your hand as you cross a parking lot and go into a movie, and the taste of snow cones on a hot summer's day in the South with your grandchildren.

As I think about it, I might even surpass my daughter's happiness scale as I continue to move toward death--enjoying every moment of life.