“Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.” ― Ernest Hemingway
“Sanity and happiness are an impossible combination.” ― Mark Twain
The drop hit me by surprise and spread down my cheek. I looked up expecting the obligatory dark clouds gathering like a group of teenagers looking for trouble, and instead saw the silvery hair of ancient softly graying geriatric clouds sauntering off across the open fields. Wiping the residue of my encounter away, I longed for more so I ran after them, trying the whole while to catch a few errant leftovers. My experience with happiness is the unexpected, and sparking my interest, I chase after whatever appears to have caused it. When panting and exhausted I collapsed in my desperate pursuit, I realized that what I sought wasn’t on the outside, it’s on the inside. It sounds like a cliché, the way running sounds to a jogger, but, I never ran before and the way I feel when I finally do is sweeter than a cliché. So pardon me while I sit here in this field and wait for the breezes bringing rain, coming not from across the valley, but from inside my soul, wetting me with the refreshing delight of inundated joy.