Next door to happiness
They say Happiness lives in that house. Normally I don’t believe nothing anyone tells me, but after walking by that door every day and staring at the sunshine color, I decide to grab an ounce of nerve and knock. I wait and sweat and fidget until finally, the door cracks open, and then swings wide.
Light, warm and soft, seeps out and spills over me. Inside, birds chirp and the air smells of apples and cinnamon. If my heart wasn’t pounding hard against my chest I might have thought I’d died, skipped on by the pearly gates, and landed right inside a new Eden.
“Is Happiness here?” I ask.
“It’s here if you want it,” said a whispery voice. “And there’s apple pie too. Fresh from the oven. Come on in, now.”
I won’t tell you everything that happened, but I will tell you this, I found Happiness, and she makes the best apple pie.
This image and more of Carmen’s photographic prints and merch are available for purchase at Fine Art America.
Uncle Corny
Sounds an awful lot like what a grannies house should be?
Sometimes it is so, however the last 27 +/- months have redefined almost everything.
To find happiness after knocking on a door sounds utopian or perhaps reminiscent of picking up that first date as a floundering male striking out on his voyage of romantic (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) discovery .
Carmen Kern
I guess I’m on a utopian kick lately, especially after the past couple of dystopian-like years. Joy, happiness, and apple pie. Sounds like paradise to me! Thanks for reading, Tony!