The Alternate H Blog

Yesterday, I was going to write H is for The Happy.  But honestly it sounded so schmaltzey in my head, I just couldn't.  Well I got up this morning and guess what?  That's right.  That blog's still there sitting in the front of my cranium like a big-eyed puppy waiting at the door to go outside to pee.  And since I have been off my writing game for a couple weeks now, it seems ludicrous to turn my back on anything that wants to be written so badly.  Course that doesn't mean that I won't bury it here in the Sunday postings if I don't like the way it  turns out.

I'm not sure when my life took a turn toward The Happy.  I suspect it was in 2001, when I was diagnosed with cancer.  That remains the single most astounding gift that I have ever received - although at the time I was sure it was not that at all.  I don't say that in a flip or disrespectful way to other people who have been diagnosed with cancer and who are living the struggle.  Not in the least.  I was one of the lucky ones.  I know it.  I don't know why I got the Get Out of Jail Free card and someone else did not.  The best way to honor that for everyone who doesn't survive or is still fighting is to make the most of what I have been given.

I don't know when The Happy arrived.  But it must have crept in on Sandburg's little cat feet and there it just was, curled up, napping on the bed.  I stopped thinking about myself as the victim of abuse, of bad health, of circumstances, of life and began to consciously choose to focus my attention on the things in my life that were good.  By doing that I realized how very much in my life IS good and  The Happy stayed.  I liked having The Happy around, so I kept working on shifting my focus toward the places I felt blessed.  The Happy, ever curious, came over to see what I was doing and in doing so brushed my hand.  I smiled.  For no other reason than The Happy had touched me.  As I felt better, I dug deeper into the closet of yucky stuff.  I grew fearless.  The Happy just grew.

The Happy is still with me, is my constant companion.  Less stuff bothers me when it is with me.  I listen more to what it needs and try to go there, in turn it twines itself about my legs to remind me of its presence.  And sometimes, sometimes The Happy brushes up against my cheek and all I can do is laugh.