As my daughter nursed lying down next to me, I tried to nap but couldn’t. I didn’t feel like reading, even though the new Mothering magazine was hidden under my pillow waiting for me. I even had Ensayo sobre la lucidez within reach. Dare I break my daughters latch? Nah. She’d just root until she got what she obviously needed to nap. (I figure she’s going through a phase where she needs to nurse and suckle during her naps. So, I hide reading material to keep me from resenting that I can’t get up.)
This time, for some reason, I chose to go to my Happy Place. It didn’t exist until this moment when it just hit me that I could daydream while she napped. That’s something! I could be doing something! It would be something new for me, something I’d never done. It was great. Now, I’d like to share with you: My Happy Place.
My Happy Place is in the mountains, a couple of hours from where I grew up. We’d go there every December and spend a couple of weeks with our Baha’i friends – ustedes saben quienes son y los quiero mucho. The way I imagine it now is that we’re all lying in a row around where we’d have the last night bonfire. We’re looking up at the stars. We’re in the present. We’re not our younger selves. And we’re just lying there. Mind you, it’s not just the friends I had back then. My Happy Place has included our partners and children. I have my daughter tucked under my arm, as usual. Nobody is talking, but then again I just went to my happy place the other day. I haven’t been back. Yet.
Okay.
Happy Place, meet my Reader. Reader, meet my Happy Place.
Do you have a Happy Place? Where is it? Who’s there?
