Practicing intentional gratitude is how I met the happiness family.
Manifested in many forms, each has a unique charm and beauty.
On days I am mindful and present, I encounter them frequently.

It is a blessing to share morning tea with a spouse who genuinely cares.
A call from my son, excited about art, writing, or life, I love hearing the insights he shares.
Drinking water from the kitchen tap, with no thought of germs, is a stark reminder of privilege.
This old picture of me with bouncy hair takes me back to the time when I was young and full of courage.
I feel elated when happiness comes knocking on my neighbor's door.
It's delightful to celebrate and spread joy, regardless of who it's meant for.
Each moment offers a new perspective that counters the pain I bear.
Instead of continually seeking happiness, I aspire to become a happiness-watcher.

A bouquet from a man of few poetic words,
Left me at a loss, struggling for words,
Amidst the sunflowers, bright and bold,
I found a key to his home, a chapter to unfold.

It was a symbol of trust, a door opened wide,
An invitation to enter, with nothing to hide,
No poem or love letter could ever convey
The depth of his feelings in such a meaningful way.

Recognizing your need to heal and grow,
I gently stepped back.
Not because my love for you had faded,
But, out of love - to protect our bond
Before bitterness could consume it entirely.
I created space for self-love.
Alongside the love I hold for you.
Even if our paths don't cross again,
I will be the keeper of what remains of our story.

Often, people part ways because something is amiss—whether it be a lack of respect, compassion, intimacy, or compatibility.
Yet not all interrupted stories stem from absence; some souls run away from genuine love.
They discover a divine connection that transcends the ordinary, and marvel at how deeply they can see into each other's souls.
Blinded by the light they share and overwhelmed by their passion, shaken by the profound depth of their bond and intimacy,
They come to realize that, just as orchids don't thrive in the desert, a love so magical is not meant for this earth. But before parting ways, they accept this divine gift with gratitude.
With tender care, they honor each precious memory of their union and tuck them away deep in their hearts. Ensuring their story can live on as a lasting source of light and joy, reminding them they once found "The One."

Reflecting on that ambivalent experience,
from long ago,
I realized our encounter was neither a story
nor a moment deserving ink.
It was simply a dare
between the inhabitants of two distant islands.

Drawn by a dreamy summer breeze,
We ventured out against the waves,
to share a forbidden touch,
then quickly retreated to the safety of our shores,
returning to our prescribed paths,
to never give it another thought.

It was a mutually agreed-upon contract,
leaving no room for confusion,
formed even before the idea of,
crossing those waters tempted our hearts.
Like water under the bridge.

We spend a lifetime tracing our footprints on this shore
Only to have them erased by time, no matter what beauty or allure.
The waves of time move swiftly, sweeping each moment into the ocean.
And we are all destined for the same fate, with very few exceptions.
Time must clear the canvas of life for those following behind,
Our life is a one-time gift; there is no option to PAUSE or REWIND.

My story began like many tales of first love.
You held immense power over me,
First, turning me into a modern-day Cinderella,
Only to cast me aside,
Leaving me in shattered fragments, rattling me to my core,
Shaking the trust and future we had envisioned together.

Yet, from this heartbreak came my transformation from a fallen princess to a radiant queen.
I painstakingly rebuilt myself, layer by layer, to be soft, adaptable, rooted, and compassionate, on a strong foundation of self-love.
Now, I stand tall, radiating the brilliance of my inner light.
Unburdened by anxiety or fear, I fully embrace the new beginning.

She leaned in and kissed him, driven by an irresistible impulse rather than a well-planned intention.
Like a gentle dare, inviting him to join her in a moonlit dance, offering a mysterious and alluring proposition.
Little did she know the long shadow this moment would cast, lingering throughout the rest of her seasons.
Caught between feelings of regret and joy, she often reflects on the lessons learned from that bittersweet passion.

Every so often, the universe brings us together, revealing the strength of our bond.

But reality pulls us apart, leaving us with bittersweet memories and shared struggles. As time passes, the walls between us seem to grow taller.

Caught between what society expects and heart's desire, a struggle between our feelings and thoughts.

I see your fear of being judged; I, too, have commitments I have pledged. To live peacefully, we must stick to our paths, like distant stars in the sky.

The finality of having missed the opportunity to sow the seeds of happiness is apparent. We must not meet again, as we have run out of gifts to exchange.

I wish you the strength to choose yourself soon and enjoy an authentic, happy life with the love of your life.

"Did I really do that? What was I thinking? Was that really me?"
If you find yourself questioning an action you just took, and trying to make sense of it.
When you experience a moment that feels both exhilarating and out of character,
When something overpowers your logic, pride, and even ego, leaving you feeling stunned, happy, and confused all at once.
Don't beat yourself up over it; instead, say a prayer of gratitude. You have just experienced humility.
Humility serves as a reminder that we are complex beings with a shadow side, and it's essential to acknowledge all parts of ourselves.
Only then can we truly experience compassion, acceptance, and self-love.

26th day of sobriety, of self-respect  
Detox can be spirit-breaking.  
It often feels like a slow death.  
The cravings pulse with each heartbeat,  
leaving you drained,  
urging you to reach out —  
perhaps by texting, sending an emoji,  
Or maybe just "liking" a post
Consumed by the need to stay attached to what is familiar.  

You dwell on old messages,  
waver between memories of sweetness and pain.  
But one day,  
You find the strength to release them.  
You erase the old threads,  
delete the contact,  
and reclaim yourself.  
You might still relapse  
until you learn to recognize the red flags  
and to stand tall in your conviction  
to avoid repeating the toxic cycle.

You are precisely as my soul remembers you—familiar and unchanged,
Yet somehow distant from what my heart believes you could be. When our souls recognize someone but hesitate to connect,
We must pause or, better yet, swiftly exit through the nearest gate. Our souls carry the memory of past karmic connections,
Familiarity doesn't always mean safety or a genuine bond of love.

We must learn to identify past cycles that are not worth repeating.
Once we have mastered the art of avoiding a repeat of the old drama,
Only then can we move forward with clarity and heal our trauma.

As I was applying my lavender lotion tonight.  
My fingers noticed something that didn't seem right.  

The blue flowers of love are no longer in bloom.  
My body feels as bare as a tree in winter's gloom.  

My brief summer of passion is a shadow from the past.
Your lips and my body, forever continents apart.

Which heartache is worse: failing in love or failing to love? Did you find peace by surrendering to fear - abandoning the spark of your dreams before they even had a chance to begin? Tell me, was it worth it?

As I sift through my bathroom shelves,
I ponder over items I made space for, but never used,
Why did I accept what didn't work for me in the first place?
As if with passing time, our chemistry will change.
As if I will come to appreciate that strawberry lotion,
Or the beige foundation sample will grow to blend with my darker skin tone.
Three bags of discarded items later, I gain clarity.
I will be discerning about what I welcome into my space
To only hold space for - what brings me joy.
To only entertain what truly resonates with my spirit.

Forgiving others to heal your wounds is just a way to start,  
You must extend the same to yourself, from the depths of your heart,
Not just for the moments you may have hurt others,
But for the times you abandoned yourself,

Staying in situations too long, holding tight instead of letting go,  
Putting in effort that went unseen, sowing seeds that couldn't grow,  
Hiding your pain behind a smile, crafting a brave disguise,  
Accepting less than you deserve, afraid of cutting old ties,  
Stop sending signals that you don't matter,  
Reclaim your worth - as a gem and a treasure,
Permit to lighten your burden and let the healing begin.  
Forgiving yourself is a journey to find true love within.

If you've ever given in to temptation,  
Swayed with indulgence,  
Embraced the allure of the forbidden,  
Veered off the well-worn path,  
Or found yourself wandering through life's twists and turns,  
If life has, at times, cracked open your heart,  
Congratulations!  
You have truly delved into the depths of existence.  
To experience life so intimately is a rare gift.

I found myself growing weary of waiting by the door,
Hoping for a burst of new happiness to sweep in.
As I glanced around to make space for this new joy,
I saw a home full of blessings that I had overlooked.
The shiny wrapping may have faded away,
But the steady warmth of love had been right there.

It bloomed in those fragrant "just because" flowers,
In the comfort of warm hugs and soothing cuddles.
It was present in daily acts of kindness and routines,
Like the dishes that magically clear away after dinner,
Or the cup of morning tea made just the way I like it.

Love isn't about grand gestures or poetic moments,
It's about consistent acts of care and kindness.
It thrives in the everyday details that matter.
A love that sees you, values your worth, and chooses you,
It is a blessing worth celebrating, protecting, and fighting for.

The gentle, yet piercing glow of the full moon casts a soft light,  
Like a caring mother, watching over our well-being.  
It gently peels away the layers we hide behind,  
Revealing both our beauty and flaws,  
Forcing us to confront the self-inflicted wounds we keep alive,  
Pain that dims the brilliance of our inner light.  
It encourages us to release the burdens that are not ours to bear.  
We begin to recognize rejections for what they truly are:
Disguised protections.
It nudges us to stop longing for what isn't ours,  
And to let go of what doesn't reciprocate our giving,
Softening the walls that block the exchange of light.
The moon then steps back, giving us space to heal,  
Returning month after month,  
Waiting for us to come into our full light.

Some touches feel like a gentle, steady rain,  
Washing away sorrows and nurturing us to heal.  
Others strike like a sudden gust of wind,  
Knocking you down, leaving you lost, without glancing back.  
Then there’s the enchanting snow, soft and light at first,  
Yet it quickly hardens into spirit-crushing ice.  
I find comfort under a warm, weighted blanket—  
A familiar source of solace, always there when I need it.

From the very beginning, we were clear about our chosen paths and destinations.
You ventured off to the east, while I headed north, my heart racing with anticipation.
Yet we cross paths again, despite our carefully planned navigations.
The programmer must have planted a glitch in the Earth's rotation.

On a warm full moon night,
wrapped in a soft, golden glow,
She asked the universe for help
in letting go of what no longer nurtured her soul.
Before long, the silence from you became palpable.
At first, it stung, but by the time the new moon appeared,
She had come to embrace the peace that clarity brought.
She found a serene tranquility in the empty spaces, a calmness that soothes her soul.
She repeats this mantra, hoping to manifest, but sees no results.
Do her words need to align with her heart's desire?

My logic keeps pointing to all that doesn't make sense.  
Yet, I listen to my heart and its weak, jumbled defense.  

I cling to frayed memories from the past,  
Replaying stories that weren't meant to last.  
I yearn for what never reflected my worth.  
Leaving me anxious and dimming my mirth.  

What I need is a big old box to bury pieces from the past.  
Say gratitude for the pain and growth that it brought.  
Then hurl it as far away as my arms can cast.  
Enjoy the weight lifted, a sense of relief at last.

As I sift through the old albums,
I come across photos of us captured over many seasons—reminders of our journey together,
From discovering first love to the time we drifted apart and became strangers.
I'm taken aback by the emotions that arise as I hold these memories. Remembering our season of blooming, I can still feel the magic of walking on cloud nine.
I am deeply grateful for the countless joyful moments we shared, each one a treasure in its own right.
For the most part, it seems time has faded the bitterness and sorrow while preserving the happy memories intact—so I thought.
Until I come to the pictures of our child.
His smile, a facade that barely conceals the anxiety in his eyes and the tension in his fists, brings back a flood of painful memories.
All he ever wanted, all he truly deserved, was to feel loved, to know he belonged, and to have a home with both families.
I bow my head in shame, remembering how he became a pawn in this battle for power.
The price he paid for belonging to a family unit that chose resentment over kindness towards a child is heartbreaking.

What good is the law that requires a mother to send the child to spend time with their father, but it cannot enforce that the father be loving or kind?
The father could tell the child that he has no food for him,
or make the hungry child sleep on a cold floor without facing any repercussions.
I can let go of the acts of betrayal and attacks that were directed at me.
But how do I forget or forgive the arrows that pierced the innocence and trust of our child, whom we all failed to protect?

What happened?  
When, where, and to whom?  
What caused it?  
Why did it happen under these specific circumstances?
We constantly ask and answer questions.
Before we identify strategies to prevent it from happening again,
All is done applying rigorous science.
The curiosity of being an epidemiologist is both a gift and a curse.
The desire to understand the complete picture is the driving force that propels us forward.    
And, even in retirement, the flame of curiosity, ignited by years of work as an epidemiologist, continues to burn brightly.  
Analyzing the crumbling public health doesn't require sophisticated modeling.
When overwhelmed with the dire answers and their potential consequences
I shut out the media, gather my painting supplies, and escape into the abstract zone,  
Where it's okay for things not to make sense.
It's a place where I can create the make-believe world I wish to live in.

Our guards keep out, the hurt and healing, 
When we meet, shrouded in protective walls. 
Each awaits the other to take the first step, 
Both carrying wounds and too afraid to fall.

The wounded CDC buildings, riddled with bullet holes, still stand tall,
More than bricks and glass, they symbolize well-being for us all.
They represent the gold standard—a fusion of science and art,
Safeguarding health and safety, even when resources are taken apart.
To grasp what it truly means to wear a CDC badge,
Serving and protecting, with honor, that's our pledge.
We stood firm, shouldering the increasing weight,
Guarding the safety and well-being of the nation's health.
If breaking the spirit of dedicated workers wasn't enough hurt,
Showering the daycare and workplace with bullets is a punch in the gut.
Our health and well-being represent the most excellent form of wealth,
Yet, the odds of survival are diminishing for the American public's health.
Will this harm everyday people, losing the best in health protection?
They will soon feel the impact, but it may be too late for redirection.

Those cursed with the soul of a nomad,  
Thrive on the adventure of each new road.  
Fearful of settling at a final destination,  
They steer clear of any stagnation.  
Avoidants are the type they tend to seek,
Hoping this path leads to the ultimate peak.

Just as I was about to say my first word,  
my mother slipped a piece of bread into my mouth.  
As I leaned in to confess my love,  
He pressed his warm lips against mine.  
Did they intend to silence my truth?  
Or return affection in their love language?

No amount of rain,
A flowing river,
Or even the ocean --
can quench our thirst.
If we can't shed the armor--
We live encased in-- First.

While falling in love felt magical,  
I forgot that self-worth was essential  
For reaching my maximum potential.

In seeking love, I found clarity about things that love was not  
What began as a love bombing, making me feel giddy and soft,  
Quickly turned into:  
- Breadcrumbing and ghosting  
- then gaslighting and being shut out

You withheld communication, and I longed for our playful ease,  
Being left out in the cold depleted my inner peace,  

Your on-and-off affection left me questioning my self-worth
Your gaslighting made me doubt and second-guess every truth,  

Being treated as just an option didn't align with my soul
It conflicted with self-respect, which had been keeping me whole

Confronting this truth broke and then mended me, though it had always been clear  
Our encounter was simply toxic — it was neither love nor care.

Like bubbles in a glass of untouched soda water, waiting for eager lips to bring them to life,
My passion shrank and sank with shame beneath the weight of your indifference, fizzling away into oblivion.
The bouquet of roses, I had carefully picked out to greet you,
Lost its fragrance as the aging petals crumbled into dark dust.
Every time I lit a candle, its flickering light became a constant reminder of the lingering question: Why wasn't my light enough?

And just like that, I'm jolted awake from a deep sleep,  
fully alert in the comforting familiarity of my surroundings,  
where a list of expectations and commitments awaits me.  
I bury my head deeper into the pillow,  
yearning to return to that enchanting dream  
where I could take flight and sing like an angelic bird.  
In that dream, I can be anything I desire to be,  
even if it lasts a few brief moments.  
Yet, just like the relentless passage of time,  
I can't reclaim or relive a dream,
but wait, I have been given a new day to recreate things I do enjoy.  
While anticipating the discoveries still waiting to be made.
With this realization, I leap out of bed, excited to embrace the wonders of today.
How fortunate to live and enjoy both of these worlds,
Each offering its unique beauty and experiences.