when I was little, I discovered happiness.
it was a cold, rainy day and I was washing my hands in the library’s bathroom. the water was warm and as I was washing my hands, I felt it.
I felt joy.
for some reason there wasn’t any hot water at home that day, and even after reading something nice, I still felt as grey as the weather outside.
as I was dipping the tip of my fingers in the warm water and then, the whole hand, I got very happy. it brought me so much comfort and re-assurance warming my hands in that fluid way, that I felt that I could go on like this forever.
that familiar feeling strikes me from time to time today when I meet a friend. it’s as if no time has passed by, and it doesn’t matter when we last saw each other or what discussions we had to date. the life we have lived together or by ourselves is in us and we are the so-ever-conscious hour glasses that store up feelings and memories and experiences and ages, the bricks that are coded simply as time.
it’s the laughter or sadness we share, the deep understanding that no judgment will be passed by either of us, the complete acceptance of the fact that who we truly are needs no defense or argument. it’s what the prophets call out in the desert, that word that brings together or separates worlds: