I don’t know who wrote the book, but I used to have one about happiness when I was a kid. Happiness was a bunch of things: a warm blanket, a puppy, eskimo kisses, etc. etc. Pretty mushy stuff. Sometimes though, it’s fun to think like a child again, to think about being happy, to focus on it and make it real for you in that moment.
Happiness is sending off the first chapter of your novel for revision.
Happiness is being scared, and embracing that scared-ness.
Happiness is that nothing exploded when you hit send.
Happiness is the hot cocoa that you made to celebrate.
Happiness is finding this picture on your computer in the VERY IMPORTANT FILES section, and smiling, because of course, that is exactly where it belonged.