Happiness In my Hands

 

            I think I got this technique from my mother. You see, my mother wasn’t happily married. My dad left us when me and my siblings were  just small kids. My mother supported me and my three siblings.

            But she seemed to have a secret to be able to get over all the hardships. She didn’t drink to forget her problems.  In fact, I have no memory of my mother drinking any kind of alcoholic beverage. She didn’t gamble like those people who tried to forget their worries in the casino. 

            Her secret was gardening. I still remember her face whenever she was in her garden. It was not a big garden. It was rather small. But that was all she needed. My brothers and I played in the small garden as she tended to her plants.

            I did not like gardening when I was small. I hated those earthworms squirming in the soil. It hurt my back and soiled my pants and shoes. But my mother enjoyed every bit of it. She even talked to her plants like kids talking to their dolls or superhero figures.

 

 

            When I had enough money to buy my own house. I looked for one with a garden. In the back of my mind, I would ask my mother to stay with me and my wife to help us raise the kids. My mother was an expert when it came to raising kids.  She raised the four of us on her own.

            But mother died of cancer even before I could ask her to live with us. 

            So the house I bought with a garden had a garden full of weeds. I used to hire the kid down the road to remove the weeds. Then one day when I got laid off from work, while I was feeling so depressed, I started to remove the weeds myself. For some reason which I couldn’t pinpoint, I started to feel better.

            Then when I had cleared the yard of weeds, I thought of buying seeds at the mall: tomatoes, cabbage, and other vegetables. At least, if I don’t get a job at once, there would be something to eat.

            I got a job at once though,  only after two weeks since I was laid off.
But for some reason, I continued to garden. I saw the vegetables grow right before my very eyes. Weekends was dirt weekends; meaning, my clothes and old shoes would all be muddy at the end of the day.

 

 

            I am now a grandfather. My son dropped off his twins this morning. My grandchildren are now in my small garden.

            “Grandpa,”  the female said, “you look happy. Why are you happy? You got dirt all over you.”

            “Yeah, grandpa. You look so yucky and dirty and you don’t smell nice. You smell like  soil,” the male said. “How come you have a smile on your face?”

            I showed them my dirty hands, the way my mother used to show me hers.  “Look, I’ve got happiness in my hands.”

            The twins looked at each other. The girl giggled and the boy shrugged his shoulders.

            “You’re weird grandpa,” the girl said.

            “Yeah, you’re weird grandpa,” the boy said.

            I hugged both of them, the way my mother used to hug me and my siblings in her small garden.

            Me and my grandchildren started laughing, the way me, my siblings and my mother used to laugh in the small garden.

            Happiness in my hands…I learned that from my mother.

Reviews

[jvava]

Sweet!
I loved this short story. It shows that happiness is not measured in currency, or things, or what you live in. It's what you enjoy that makes you happy. And I enjoyed reading this story - it was sweet. I enjoyed its simplicity as well - you didn't try to jive it up with fancy words, which was to your benefit.
Is this a true story? It seems so realistic, a crucial characteristic with good writing.
Great job! Keep up the good work!

[ChasingHappiness]

thank you very much for your wonderful comment. Yes, it's based on a true story.