Are you happy?

On a weekend morning, sitting at a familiar coffee shop, looking up at the road ahead, I saw a blue car passing by. On the side of the car was printed a large line: Are you happy? Ah, it turned out to be the content of an advertising campaign for an eco-urban area on the outskirts of the city. But no matter, that did not make the impression of that line fade away, in fact, the more I remembered it, the more I urged myself to seek the answer at all costs. I thought, having gone through almost half of my life, it must be time to bravely evaluate my success or failure by the measure of happiness.

Am I happy?

Looking back at my childhood, countless images like slices of time flooded my mind. When I was 4 years old, my father carried me on his shoulders on the dusty road to my grandparents' house. As he walked, he complained: "Can't you get off and walk a little? My neck is so tired!", but that tired-necked man still patiently carried me all the way there.

In the third grade, I was embarrassed in front of my friends about the broken sandals that my mother had used 502 glue on several times to temporarily fix them. The smudged glue and faded color of the sandals always made me feel like the whole school was staring at my feet and making fun of me. That night, I refused to eat and declared that I would not go to school if I did not have new sandals. My mother got angry and said that whether I went to school or not was up to me, but I did not have new sandals! But the next morning, under the plate of fried banh chung for breakfast was a hastily written note: When you come home from school this afternoon, I will take you to buy sandals! When I grew up, I found out that my mother had borrowed the sandals from my neighbor, Mrs. Chinh, and that she would only pay them back when she got her salary.

When I was 10 years old and was admitted straight to secondary school, my father took the whole family to eat grilled vermicelli with grilled pork for a party. The old cub had a short seat, and my brother was sitting behind it several times, almost falling off the road, but the whole family was laughing and talking happily as we went.

When I was in 9th grade, I thought I failed the graduation exam because of a rare incident during the data entry process of the exam marking department. My father drove me to the education office. It was raining heavily. My father wore a double raincoat. I crouched under his arm and waited for the appointment time. My father was quiet, occasionally turning back to pat me on the head and saying: Don't worry, I'll tell them!

The year I took the university entrance exam, I went against my parents' instructions and stubbornly registered for a faraway school where I had no relatives. My mother cried her eyes out, my father was angry, my brother came and went glaring at me. I had decided to take the exam alone with my backpack, but that morning, my father brought home 3 train tickets, and my parents took me to the promised land...

As time goes on, my memories become clearer. It’s strange that when I was young, I always felt poor, but now looking back, I feel so rich! Looking back at the past, I feel that I have lived with all my strength; and that strength was nurtured and nourished mostly by the silent love of my family. My parents were not educated, rarely spoke kind words, but through their actions, they always made me believe that they would always be there: in front to protect me when I was young, by my side when I grew up and was stubborn with my decisions, behind when they grew old and I grew up to boldly enter the stormy school of life. Whether my life was sad or happy, whether it was ups and downs, whether it was joyful or numbingly painful, I have never doubted the fundamental values ​​that my family built, which gave me the courage to stand up again and again.

Am I happy?

For a long time, I have never asked myself that question, because I see that everything in life happens in the same way, when one way is gone, I find another way, when I lose this game, I set up another, when I am busy making a living, who has time to stop and ask myself about happiness. But it turns out, when we suddenly remember it, that feeling called happiness has actually been inside us without us knowing.

Everyone holds the seed of happiness in their hearts, some realize it, some don’t, some realize it but deny it because they think that happiness must be something great, not something simple and small like that. But great things are not abundant and readily available, while small things are always around us, we don’t have to search far away, we don’t have to cling to somewhere far away. Every morning, when I go out, blending into the bustling traffic, looking at the faces on the street, listening to the sound of car horns mixed with the sound of selling breakfast, the sound of the loudspeaker playing exercise music mixed with the announcement of vaccination schedules… I feel so lucky to be alive and healthy, here, right now. Those everyday noises remind me that life itself is a miracle, the most precious gift, true happiness. I don’t need to look for happiness anywhere far away.

And you, are you happy?