plain happiness
My girlfriend tapped me gently. Half-asleep, I took the warm egg tart she handed me. Taking a small bite, the sweet aroma filled my mouth. I slowly opened my eyes—afternoon sunlight fell on the tips of her hair, gilding it with a soft golden glow, making her look like a little angel.
It was just an ordinary afternoon. After lunch together, Xiao She rubbed her full stomach, then suddenly lit up: “I still want to eat egg tarts.” She’s always like this, her whims coming faster than the wind, impossible to say no to. I rode my bike with her to her favorite shop. Holding the freshly baked egg tarts, she finally nodded obediently, agreeing contentedly to go to the classroom with me to do some homework.
Warm sunlight wrapped around the classroom. After working on homework for a while, my eyelids started to feel heavy. I made a “twenty” gesture with my hands, and she immediately nodded—she understood it meant “wake me up in twenty minutes.” This was our little unspoken understanding; a single gesture, even a glance, was enough to instantly get each other’s thoughts.
When I woke up again, I could smell that egg tart. The sunlight was still soft, but the scene in front of me made me feel dazed. It took me a moment to realize this wasn’t a dream—this was just an ordinary afternoon, and also the simplest kind of happiness.
She often does little things: there are always two candies that “appear” in my schoolbag, slipped in by her casually; when I have a cold and cough, she pulls out packaged medicine from her pocket; on rainy days, she brings an extra umbrella and says with a smile, “I guessed you forgot yours again.” These things might be too small to mention, but I think someone who does them is always thinking of the other person first. She never says “I want to make you happy”—her actions are the answer.
Sometimes I ask her, when do we count as being happy? She thinks for a moment, then answers simply: “It’s just having you by my side.” This is far more powerful than any long speech. I started noticing those beautiful little moments around me, like the slight upward curve of her lips when she’s asleep.
We often put happiness off, saving it to “cash in” on some future day. She taught me that happiness shouldn’t be realized only in hindsight—it’s right here, right now. So I no longer wait for the next holiday to travel together; instead, we take walks and chat on Saturday evenings. I no longer wait for the next anniversary to celebrate properly; instead, we just enjoy our meals together at the dinner table every day.
We sat on a park bench, with her leaning on my shoulder. She whispered softly: “If we can still remember these little things when we’re old, that’ll be enough.”
Yeah, that’s more than enough.
