My Grandmother's Laughter, and Other Things That Make Me Really Happy
Think of 10 things that make you really happy and jot them down on a list as they come to your mind. Here’s mine:
Hugs From Babies
My Grandmother's Laughter
Handing Over a Home-Cooked Meal
Being Handed a Home-Cooked Meal
A Gaze Across Unending Waters
Greetings From Unsuspecting Children
Reactions to Thoughtful Gifts I've Given
Receiving Something I Like Without Having to Ask
Pleasant Conversations That Go Absolutely Nowhere
Empty Consciousness Hitting My Body as I Pedal On a Bicycle
30-Day Writing Challenge, Day 1
It's day 1 of a 30-day writing challenge I found on the Internet, shared by a WordPress blog, and I'm already liking it. I set a timer on my phone for 30 minutes, put Beethoven in my ears, and took off. It's only taken me restarting the timer once to get where I am now. Yes, it has taken me an hour to write a 10-item list and 4 sentences.
Coming up with content ideas to create a piece, or topics to talk about, is never my problem. My problem is that I'm 'bout slow as molasses. Some bloggers do writing challenges to enhance their creativity. I'm doing a writing challenge to enhance my speed. Or else, how will I ever produce enough content to bring in the big bucks like Abby Lawson over at justagirlandherblog.com, earning 4.8 million dollars per year according to MoneyMint.com?!
The only instruction on the 30-Day Writing Challenge graphic from WordPress is "list 10 things that make you really happy." Technically, I'm done. I've done as instructed. But I've never been a listicles girl, and I'm sitting on an Amtrak with limited entertainment anyway. Let's dig into this writing prompt!
10 Things That Make Me Really Happy
Hugs From Babies
I wrote this list of happy things as the happy things came to my mind, not necessarily organized by the amount of happiness each brings; so, hugs from babies being listed first may have a little to do with the fact that I'm leaving from having spent a couple weeks tending to my sister's kids as she recovered from a surgery. Even if time with little humans wasn't the freshest thing on my mind, I'm sure it would rank pretty high.
I love children, I always have, even when I was a child myself. I watched my little neice, Kens, hold her baby brother in a hug for longer than she can count, and a pleasant disposition rested on her face. He wasn't feeling well and it made them both feel good for her to console him in her arms, even being nothing but a baby herself. Whereas the other two siblings can't be bothered for more than a blink, usually hugging out of necessity, it actually brings Kens happiness to hug. I was a Kens as a kid, caring and nurturing, finding satisfaction in soothing others. Though buried under a stone exterior, I still am a Kens, filling with happiness as a hug from an infant breaks down my walls like a wrecking ball.
Living in different states, I hadn’t seen my little cousin, Emma, in years. Though too small to have remembered me, she fell right into my arms like no time had passed. Hugs from small children are heart-warming.
Hugs from anyone, that's not a creeperzoid, feels good, really. (And sometimes even a hug from a creeperzoid feels good, yikes.) However, there's something different about a hug from a small child. For one, as a female, we're often pursued by the opposite sex with an innate motivation for their private parts to touch our private parts -- with small children, there's no sexual motivator on the other end of the hug. Then, in same-sex embraces, among homegirls, for example, though there's no underlying sexual motivator, there's still some sort of motivator, like sympathy or pity, and thoughts attached to that motivator. (Or, it's me overthinking everything. Nonetheless...) A hug from a small child is genuine, pure love with nothing much beyond what it is in that moment. It's warm and I feel blood rushing into my aorta, swelling my heart.. even if they ask to play games on my phone right after.
2. My Grandmother's Laughter
"That's all I remember.. being hungry."
My entire life my grandmother has recounted early childhood memories of being dirt poor, growing up in a very rural area outside of New Orleans. Before making it out of her teen years, she was already a mother of two, the first of which, my mother, was a result of a forced sexual relationship with a man probably thrice her age that started when she was only about 14. Her baby boy, whom my mother had named my brother after, was shot dead, causing my mother to have a mental breakdown which eventually led to my grandmother being stuck with two more kids (my brother and I) to raise. This is the extremely short story of a life overwhelmed with strife, that didn’t see enough peace.
“I’ll sit on his lap,” my grandmother said as we went to pose for a picture at USVI’s Mountaintop. She’s comical, but even if she weren’t, her laughter would make me laugh.
Though seeing my grandmother happy would make me happy regardless, having a deeper understanding of her life experience really takes my appreciation for her moments of happiness to the next level. I strive to make her happy because she deserves it. Everyone deserves to be happy, but those who have been beaten by barracks of injustices, and still survive, really deserve to be happy. That’s why, even if nothing is funny, I’m giddy when Granny’s giggling.
3. Handing Over a Home-Cooked Meal
Some of my girlfriends in Los Angeles may tell you that I never cook, but it’s only because they’ve never given me a reason. The moment I have a reason, I’m in the kitchen putting these wrists to work! And by a reason, I definitely don’t mean my own personal need to consume food for survival. That’s not enough to make me want to cook; I’ll eat out or throw together something quick, if it’s only me I’m trying to feed. I keep a 3-dollar 12-pack of ramen noodles under the cabinet.
When I have someone to feed, I’m buying all fresh ingredients, cutting up seasonings, cracking pepper, kneading dough, the works! All of this happens after I’ve cleaned the kitchen, then I clean while I’m cooking, and I clean after I’m finished cooking. Don’t even think about reaching in my pots. I’m making everyone’s plate and bringing it to them with utensils. I’ll most likely ask you what you’d like to drink as well, and bring that to you too. I take care of myself last, as I bask in everyone’s faces and comments of beyond satisfaction.
I don’t even like cooking, but I like cooking for people.
4. Being Handed a Home-Cooked Meal
For me, food is fellowship. That’s how we’re raised in the South. We get in the kitchen, we get in those pots, and we get into each other. We gather at a loved one’s home, talk, laugh, and enjoy one another’s company. That’s why a home-cooked meal makes this list twice.
If you’re wondering why I didn’t combine this one and the previous one, it’s because they’re different. I don’t know which one makes me happier, cooking for someone or being cooked for. They play off of each other. I suppose knowing how much effort and care I put into food preparation makes my cheeks perk up when someone does it for me. Then, knowing how much I enjoy being served a home-cooked meal is what warms my insides to know I’m making someone else feel that same way.
My sis, Taylor, snapped an off-guard picture of me on her mom’s beautiful backyard patio, sitting beside the backlit pool, enjoying some crabs hot off the grill, prepared and served to us. Related: A Childish Backyard Birthday Bash For Adults (TikTok video)
Food — here, there, anywhere, on a boat, on a goat, or stuffed in my tote — makes me happy. I know people that eat like birds and I can’t relate. I enjoy food too much to limit myself. When thought, time, and energy is exerted on a meal when I visit someone’s home, or they specifically bring me a plate, (and it’s good), I’m gayer than laughter.
5. A Gaze Across Unending Waters
While I was staying by my sister’s place the past couple of weeks, I’d take all 4 kids out of the house in the evening for a couple of hours to give her a moment of peace and silence. All we’d do is walk around the neighborhood, or go to the neighboring playground. She said, “girl, you like being outside,” and I couldn’t have been more disappointed by such an inaccurate statement. I am not an outdoors girl; I don’t like the palpitations my heart gets at the sight of a spider, I don’t like sweat stains in the armpits of my shirt, I don’t like dirt under my fingernails, and I for sure don’t like the sun baking premature aging into my skin.
Though I don’t much care for being outdoors, I like the idea of it. I adore the sights of nature, and am even more infatuated with the complex simplicity that is nature.
The ocean steals my heart every time I’m blessed with the opportunity to experience it. I could stare across blue waters ‘til no end, preferably from an air conditioned, or at least shaded, area. Whether I’m standing where the Atlantic meets Africa’s western coast, or sailing on a little yacht in the lesser Antilles of the Caribbean Sea, gazing across unending waters brings a lightness to my to spirit.
Related: First Day Exploring Morocco, On the Atlantic Coast of Africa
One of my favorite happy places is being at sea, gazing out across unending waters.
Turning your head all the way to the left, then all the way to the right, and seeing water as far as your eyes can see has a way of putting a human’s existence into perspective. Put your hand in front of your face and bring the tip of your index finger so close to the tip of your thumb that only a fine strand of hair could be held in between. That’s how big you are. Now, stretch your arms completely out with your palms facing forward and try to make the backs of your hands meet. Unless you’re some sort of double-jointed super yogi, you probably can’t. That’s how big the world is, bigger than your arms can even stretch. If the world is that big, and you’re that small, imagine how much smaller your problems are. Ah, what a sigh of relief.
6. Greetings From Unsuspecting Children
Unfamiliar with the Los Angeles terrain, when I arrived from Louisiana, I blindly signed a lease in a “bad” neighborhood referred to as “The Jungle”. (It’s the neighborhood in L.A. where Denzel Washington’s character advised, “you don’t come here with anything less than a platoon,” in the movie Training Day, because it’s known to be that dangerous.) Though I was met with wide, worried eyes by locals when I told them where I was moving, I ended up finding it rather pleasant.
When I would return from working in Beverly Hills luxury all day, to my unfurnished apartment in The Jungle, I was greeted daily at the building’s dirty metal gate by excited voices pouring from the mouths of babes. I was thee only single, college-aged Black girl in the postwar-style quarters. Almost all of my fellow tenants were Hispanic, middle-aged approaching, with families. The property manager didn’t even speak English. However, differences didn’t stop connections from being made.
Related: Idk What This 3-Year-Old Hispanic Girl Is Saying, But I Like It (video)
Anytime I was noticed entering or exiting my home, the neighborhood kids would jump up and down, run towards me, and/or scream, “TeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeKaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!” It feels good for someone to simply be happy to see you. One of my girlfriends from Louisiana, Sierra, even got a taste of this rush once, when stopping by my place. Sierra couldn’t help but smile when recounting the children’s roars when they heard her come in, thinking it was me.
The children are so happy, and the happiness is beaming at you, you can’t help but to feel happy!
7. Reactions to Thoughtful Gifts I’ve Given
I am a great gift-giver and I am not even going to be modest about it. I give good gifts. I thoroughly listen to a person and their interests and their needs, and their woes, and their joys, then I take my time coming up with a gift idea based off of the knowledge I’ve collected on them.
I grin and think to myself, “yeah, Tee, you did that.”
When a person reacts to a gift I’ve given them, and I don’t mean only material items, handwritten words on a previous blank card as well, it confirms all the information I gathered was correct and I’ve successfully filled a space.
When one of my girlfriends intentionally waits for a special occasion to pop the bottle of champagne I bought her while flying thru Paris, I know she understands the thought and resources that went into that bubbly because she’s putting thought into when to enjoy it. I got you something special, and you’re treating it as such.
When my sis FaceTime calls me, telling me how her family ate every drop of the pan of seafood pasta I arranged for a private chef to deliver as a push-present after she came home from giving birth, I know I came in clutch.
I suppose the deeper, overarching emotion here is that it makes me happy when my efforts are recognized and appreciated. And, I plain ol’ like making people happy.
8. Receiving Something I Like Without Having to Ask
One of my girlfriends constantly shares pictures in our group message, with the mutual girlfriend that brought us together, sharing flowers she has received from one man, then a freshly detailed car or full gas tank courtesy of another man, then new pieces of luxury merchandise from the others. (It’s natural to want to share good things we receive, as any social media news feed demonstrates on Valentine’s Day, but she chooses not to share on there because then her men would know they’re not thee only one trying to be thee only one; she likes to make each man believe she’s only entertaining him.) Though romantic interests are her main source, she likes receiving from everyone… but rarely ever thinks to give. I don’t understand that.
The same way my happy things 3 and 4 on this list are connected, cooking meals and being cooked meals, is how this item and the one right above are connected.
Being thoughtful brings me happiness, and being thought of brings me happiness. Though there’s no expectation of a direct exchange when I give (i.e. “I got you this for $3 yesterday, so you get me that for $3 today), it’s nice to know that people, you care about enough to think of, also care enough to think about you.
When I visited one of my girlfriends in Minneapolis, knowing one of my favorite snacks, Bria took me to a long-standing candy shop and treated me to a huge bag of Chicago mix popcorn. I was elated! Related: Minnesota State Fair Blog Post in the Travel Diary
As I mentioned in the previous point, I pay close enough attention to people to know what they may like or could use; that’s why when someone gets me something that I like without me having had to ask, it tells me they pay attention to me as well, and that right there is what makes me happy, thoughtfulness and reciprocity.
And, maybe there’s a little bit of my grandmother showing up in me there. “Little girl, you should do that without me having to ask,” she’d say in a scolding tone as I’d show her a spotless kitchen after she’d told me my chores weren’t properly done. Look now, Granny.
9. Pleasant Conversations That Go Absolutely Nowhere
I love a good chit chat. And by chit chat, I for darn sure don’t mean about the weather. I’m not interested in small talk.
I enjoy for a conversation to have depth without needing something on the other end. It isn’t a networking opportunity for possible work. It isn’t a sales pitch to attract a love interest. It isn’t a monologue to vent to a stranger. It isn’t to see how you can benefit them, nor how they can benefit you. There’s no motive. It’s merely individuals having a human experience. Maybe laughs will be had, or thoughts will be inspired, but there’s no demand nor hope for what has to come out of the conversation.
This “happy thing” list item came from when I thought about why I enjoyed my trip to Morocco as intensely as I did. What was making me so happy as I explored this foreign country? One consistent thread, from the North to le Sud, was having conversations with no expectations. Yes, I’m sure my desert tour guide, or the restaurant servers, appreciate generous tips, however, it was very evident they genuinely enjoy talking to foreigners about one another’s country. I had a couple of Moroccans that spent a lengthy amount of time with me that wouldn’t even accept money from me.
Related: You Can’t See the Desert, You Have to Feel It
It’s enjoyable to engage without having to wonder, “oh Lord, what do they want?” — or, to rebuke the devil trying to make you wonder what you can get from them — to solely be present in the conversation, not worrying about what comes next.
Having a moment to enjoy for what it is in that moment makes me happy.
10. Empty Consciousness Hitting My Body as I Pedal On a Bicycle
How did I not think of riding a bicycle sooner?!
I got to the tenth spot on this “10 things that make you really happy” writing prompt and thought, “OH! Wait…”
It doesn’t matter how busy I am, how much family issues are stressing my brain, how bad of an attitude I’m experiencing; I can hop on my bicycle and it turns my frown upside down.
What is it about riding a bicycle that is so fun?
Well, it’s not the mindless motorists, that’s for sure! And it’s not being outdoors, as I’ve already told you, I’m not really an outdoors girl. If it’s not the people, and not the setting, and that’s the majority of the activity, what could it be making me so happy when I ride a bicycle?
Riding a bicycle allows me to be extremely aware of my surroundings and conscious, while simultaneously causing my mind to be at peace.
Riding a bicycle reminds me that I’m alive without forcing me to think about being alive.
I didn’t think about it until thinking about it, for this writing challenge blog post. I didn’t think about it, nor about anything, because riding a bicycle doesn’t require you to think. You merely go. You’re free. Riding a bicycle gives you space to practice a silent mind, as eloquently explained by philosopher and writer, Alan Watts. (He didn’t say anything about riding a bicycle, but still).
Though I may not be sitting like a Buddhist, rather in complete motion, my mind finds a sort of peace and tranquility with my bum atop a bicycle seat while my feet flow on the pedals.
Take a visit to your happy places.
If you’re a blogger or writer or just a girl with a lot on her mind, give this writing prompt a try.
Thinking about things that make you really happy is an eye-opening way to do some introspection. It also will also give you a dose of happiness reminiscing about all these things that make you happy. I must’ve read my 10-item list about 50leven times, full of smiles.
If you’re not a writer or blogger, and your mind is free and clear, you should take a visit to your happy places as well with this writing prompt. Letting your mind quickly go there is cool, but putting the words in front of your face will help bring your mind’s attention to a solid list of 10 things. Feelings of happiness can be fleeting and easy to overlook. Seeing it on paper will help you realize what really makes you happy.
Please don’t be deterred by my lengthy dig into this writing prompt, I am a writer after all. It’s not necessary for you to write out an explanation in rhythm for each one of your happy things. Grab a little pen pad, set a short timer and quickly scribble scratch 10 things that make you really happy. It can be a quick moment of mindfulness.
YOU make me happy!
You, reading this, make me happy. Whether this is your first time on this lifestyle blog, or you’re a regular reader, you’re here now, and that makes you one of my Riders. (Writers have readers, aroundLAwithTK has riders; I appreciate y’all for riding with me!)
I’m not sure how obvious it was with this list of 10 things that make me really happy, but I like to talk, I like to listen, I like to engage, I love people. Tweet me your thoughts @aroundLAwithTK, or drop a comment on an Instagram post.
