Perfect Happiness

Happiness
Raymond Carver

So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.

When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.

They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.

I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.

They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.

Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.

Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.

This is the poem that I think of lately... when I look down at one of their faces, smiling up at me, and feel the fleeting surge of pure happiness. That unexpected feeling that you spend your whole life trying to attain and yet it comes on in the most unexpected of times. Last week they all wanted to go for a run with me. I had such a wonderful alone time with each one of them... Teddy actually RAN and could've gone on way longer than I could have. Norah was her sweet self, gripping my hand and looking up at me with her squinty wonderful smile, saying 'it's just a mommy and norah run.' She kept trying to run but she couldn't quite do it... but she was so happy. When it was Vivi's turn I just remember her face laughing up at me and feeling that exhilarating purity.  That feeling that I would guess that people chase with drugs.   It just all comes down to that feeling. There is no purer reason or happiness. It seems so odd, how much we chase it! Where is happiness? It's a little trickster, peeking out unexpectedly- you point it out to your friend and when they turn it's already hidden again. A Snuffelupagus.