I am.

From across the table he explains the assignment. Complete the sentence - "One thing I know I am is ....". His son cannot complete the sentence. I ask him, "How would you answer?" 

"I can't.", he tells me. 

Immediately, I know my word is "invincible". I push him. I want to vanquish his humility. 

"Can you at least admit that you're good? Can you say the words 'I am good'?"

He laughs. Hands up, eyes on the table. A sigh. "Yes. I know I am a good person". I remain unconvinced.

Is it enough? I tell him he's too amazing. Too kind. Too compassionate. Too inherently good to not realize that he is. I want him to see what I see. I want him to know what I know. I want for him to never be shrouded in self-doubt. I want him to be aware of his own dazzling glory. I share with him Marianne Williamson and Nelson Mandela. I want his knowledge of self to wrap him like a blanket -- the comfort of his own goodness. 

"The one thing I know I am is happy. I am happy." He speaks with finality. To him, it is everything. 

Is it enough? Does it speak to his character, this ability to be happy? Does it speak to his recognition of self? To his own amazing existence? 

Simply. Quietly. Profoundly, it does. In those words "I am happy" he has revealed all there is to know of him. 

He is happy and that is everything.