Little Moments

We pile into the back of a worn out Chevy through the right side (the left door is broken). The lovers in the front seat are screaming along to a song that the rest of us don't know. I'm plastered against two almost strangers, the back road wind buffeting my cold face. I'm laughing at nothing, my stomach empty of dread.

We're walking into a park, an old friend and I. The air is hot but not oppressive. She's telling me about a movie she saw the night before, her giggling contagious. The playground is crowded, but we find two isolated swings. I kick off my shoes and soar through the air. I feel light. Limitless.

We're working on a project in German, neither of us having a clue what to do. We muscle through the problems, guessing all the way. Whispered puns and jokes bother our neighbors, but we don't care. He hits me playfully with his hoodie string. He tells me to fix my necklace, the clasp is showing. I glance at him, 5 years of history between us. But we're close. Closer than ever. I'm smiling for the first time in a long time.

Happiness is most real in the smallest of moments.