Todos buscamos ser felices en nuestras vidas. Esto es un hecho y generalmente uno de nuestros propósitos como seres humanos. Cada cual tiene su idea propia de lo que es la felicidad, algunos encuentran felicidad en las cosas materiales, otros en la cantidad de amigos que tengan, haciendo felices a otros, capturando la atención de otros, etcétera. Hacemos todo lo posible para lograr nuestra felicidad, buscamos nuevas amistades, tratamos de mejorarnos como personas, buscamos actividades que nos hagan sentir bien, entre otras miles de opciones.

La Real Academia Española le otorga a la felicidad la definición de que ésta es el “estado del ánimo que se complace en la posesión de un bien”. Un bien puede ser cualquier objeto, acción, persona, animal o idea que nos haga felices. Es decir, todo nos puede brindar felicidad. Ya sea ver una obra artística que nos agrade visualmente o estar con aquella persona que nos haga sentir bien.

Ahora, debo aclarar, sentirse bien no necesariamente significa que la persona sea feliz plenamente. Sentirse bien, puede ser un sentimiento pasajero y por esto mismo la felicidad que obtenemos de “sentirnos bien” nunca es permanente. Consideremos que se puede ser plenamente feliz única y exclusivamente cuando logramos sentirnos bien todo el tiempo. ¿Pero, cómo se puede ser feliz todo el tiempo?

Preguntemos a una persona de edad avanzada si es verdaderamente feliz y de seguro nos contestara de manera afirmativa. ¿Es verdaderamente feliz por que ha logrado sentirse bien todo el tiempo? No, esta persona sufre, seguramente aún tiene muchísimas preocupaciones, tiene varias condiciones médicas, pero aún así es feliz. Su secreto seguramente es que ha logrado sus objetivos de vida y ha logrado un grado de felicidad con el cual se siente bien. Es decir, el reto en la vida no es estar feliz eternamente o sentirse bien todo el tiempo, “vivir la vida color de rosa”, sino que podamos sentirnos bien aún cuando no todo en nuestras vidas sea perfecto. Entonces, nos podemos considerar felices.

Llegar a sentirnos verdaderamente felices puede costar desde segundos hasta una vida entera, todo depende del individuo. Mientras más pronto logremos encontrar un punto en el cual nos encontremos suficientemente bien, más pronto seremos felices. Existe un solo problema y aunque suene redundante exactamente son los problemas que se nos presentan cada día. Es posible que logremos ser verdaderamente felices por gran parte de nuestra infancia, en la mayoría de los casos así es que sucede, pero comenzamos a crecer y comienzan a aparecerse los problemas en nuestras vidas, los trabajos de la escuela, los problemas con nuestras amistades, comienza el drama de nuestro día a día. Estos problemas nos presentan un reto, debemos superarlos para lograr nuestra felicidad nuevamente. Superarlos o sentirnos bien, cómodos, con nuestra carga de problemas.

Todos queremos ser felices, pero no todos lo logramos. La felicidad no es eterna, pero tampoco los problemas lo son. Todo problema se puede superar. Nos podemos sentir bien, sin ser verdaderamente felices. La clave de ser verdaderamente felices es sentirnos cómodos con nuestros estilos de vida y cuando se nos presenten problemas lograr superarlos sin perder nuestra calma y lograr sentirnos bien.

The little vampire boy was let out of his coffin for the first time that night. Filled with glee he flew till he reached the cemetery. There he stood under a willow tree that sat on a hill overlooking the graves. With a friendly owl, that decided to drop by, he had a nice conversation. Some mice that appeared to be fairly scared of the owl fiddled with the ends of the little vampire’s robe. The bright moon glistened and lit up the little vampire’s face. He was happier than ever before, but, as this story must end so has the night to end and with the first rays of sunlight the outcome of this story changes. Next morning, under the willow tree all that was left were some mice bones and dust.

“It started as a disease spread by those flying rodents, but now…” the man with the bird like mask pondered for a while “It’s spreading too fast”. He passed around the dim lit room. Clearly troubled by what was happening he opted to take a sit on his desk. He took of his wide-brimmed black hat and placed it on his lap. The satin of his black cloak shimmered in the candle lit room as he placed the hat down. Undoing some belts and buttons he took of the bird like mask that covered his face and placed it on the desk next to some vials filled with colorful liquids. Finally being able to breathe in some air he was struck with the smell of the burning bodies of those he hadn’t been able to save. The smell was no discomfort for since a couple of months ago it had become the smell that filled the streets of the city. He sat there for a couple of minutes staring out the window, seeing the stream of smoke that erupted out of the burning house and lead to the just as dark sky.

“Are you going to spend your whole life there? You know that there is nothing that you can do” said a woman that now stood at the door leading to the office. With the door open the room was now brightly lit. Empty glass vases glistened and dust flew out of the bookshelves.

“Claire, I’m getting frustrated… There is nothing left to do… I spend hours thinking of ways to end this, but nothing comes up… I am starting to believe there’s no hope left. This may be the end of human kind” he said while standing up.

She looked into his dull grey eyes and said softly, “You need to get some rest and some food too. Come, stand up”. She fought with him and, when he did not move from his perpetual spot, gave up. “This is useless! You are only making this worst to yourself by denying yourself a life! You are immune to the disease go out and live! Why are you denying yourself from having fun?” She punched him on his chest with the little amount of strength she had.

“If they cannot live and they are not immune, then neither am I. I am a doctor, my job is to save the lives of others… Tell me, what kind of doctor can go dilly dally and ignore all of this…” He muttered and then went back to his desk. He stared at some papers. The world finally caught up to him and with not an ounce of energy left he collapsed and went to sleep. Claire took her sweater, placed it over his back and left the room. She felt bad, but there was really nothing she could do. He was committed to his cause.

He opened his eyes as the glare of the fluorescent light bulbs came from the next door room. Another night sleeping in his office, maybe Claire was right, maybe he did need a break. She walked into the room with a silver plate. On it, a cup of hot tea, the smell was invigorating and almost shrouded that of death, and a smaller ceramic plate with some toast and what seemed to be poached eggs. She gestured towards him and placed the silver plate on his desk.

“I do not want to eat Claire, but well… I guess I must. After all, you did make your famous poached eggs” that said, he went to the sink in his office cleansed his face and took a seat. He started to eat up the food in a slow, but steady pace. Claire sat on a small chair that she pulled from the room next to her. She looked at her dear friend, he seemed alienated, distracted by so many thoughts. She could only imagine how he felt. When she noticed that he had finished his meal she gestured at him and said “Come now, you need to take a bath. Dear, you reek of death”. She pulled him by the sleeves of his shirt and dragged him out into the living room. The room, like the rest of the house, was lit with flickering fluorescent light bulbs. It had little to no furniture, just a couple of wooden chairs and a small table. She grabbed a neatly folded white towel and placed it on his lap. “Go now and take a bath, you’ll feel better” she said in her always soft and caring tone.

Apenas salía el sol por el este y sus rayos iluminaban el cuarto. Los gallos comenzaban a cantar cuando Juan y su esposa, María, ya estaban en pie. Mientras Juan se viste, con la misma ropa de toda la semana, María prepara el café y levanta a Pedrito. Éste recién había cumplido sus tres años y ya comenzaba a trabajar junto a su madre. Luego de tomarse un trago de café, Juan se despide y se encamina hacia el pueblo en busca de empleo. María, desde la puerta de la casucha, observa a Juan desaparecer en la lejanía. Luego recoge los pocos desordenes de la casucha, busca su canasta, toma a Pedrito de la mano y se dirige al cafetal.

El verde de los arboles del camino les brinda sombra. Los bueyes comenzaban su día y mugían mientras los hombres de la hacienda los preparaban para el trabajo. Llegan al cafetal y juntos, María y Pedrito, comienzan a trabajar. Una brigada de personas trabajan en las extensas hileras de plantas de café. María recoge los frutos de café, mientras Pedrito recoge todos los que están a su alcance y aquellos que se le caen a su madre. Juntos caminan e inspeccionan planta tras planta de café. Llenan la canasta y la vacían en un ciclo sin fin.

Llegando el sol al oeste del horizonte, el capataz da la orden de que el día de trabajo está a punto de llegar a su fin. María toma su canasta vacía en una mano y en la otra a Pedrito. Juntos se retiran hacia su hogar. De camino a la casucha escuchan los bueyes comenzando a dormirse, los coquíes con su canción. Acompañados de la melodía creada por los sonidos del atardecer, María y Pedrito llegan a su hogar.

María envía a Pedrito a buscar unos vegetales al pequeño huerto que estaba junto la casucha y ésta comienza a preparar el fogón para la comida. Mientras el sol se esconde y da un tono naranja a todo, María contempla las llamas del fogón y reflexiona sobre su día. Sabiendo que mañana será otro día igual.

Irene Periwinkle was your average little girl and that is just an understatement. She was just about the same height as everyone in her class at school, her uniform didn’t help her stand out of the crowd at all, her facial features were nothing to be surprised by and she looked just like every other girl. What set her apart from the rest was the simplest thing in the world, by some reason, out of her understanding, everyone in her school had decided not to befriend her. Though being around people neither made her feel better or worst for Irene had grown costumed to being alone.

Being an only child, she had no brothers or sisters to play with, just a few cousins and a neighbors, but Irene never really found a good reason to interact with them. Her mother eventually gave up after many failed attempts to get her daughter to socialize. Swimming lessons, camp and art classes, just to name a few. Her father, highly involved in his work, never seemed to care or even notice of his child’s odd behavior.

Though lonesome as she was, Irene desired some type of interaction with other living beings. So in those days where she felt she truly wanted a change of pace, she would stand from her bed, get out of the house and go for a walk around the small garden her mother cultivated with outmost care. In the garden she talked to the flowers, she discussed fashion with the sunflowers, music with the tulips and shared beauty tips with the roses. She went around and sang along with the crickets, learned new things with the always wise hummingbird and shared recent news with the traveling bumblebees. One day after going through her parade of fantasies Irene grew awfully tired and decided to take a nap near the big old oak tree that stood at the border of her house’s property and at the moment she rested her head on the tree’s roots she went to sleep.

In her dream a paved road appeared. She wasn’t a young girl anymore and her garden friends where nowhere to be found. Irene Periwinkle was your average woman, black suit and all. She walked down the paved road and with every step she took a building appeared. Long tall building that seemed to go on forever. She was stomped by a particular building. This one wasn’t tall or even similar to the others. It was a toy store and on the display a small scene was portrayed by dolls and stuffed animals. A doll of a little girl was set as the center piece and around her a vast variety of stuffed animals sat on some shelves. Irene was too busy to stay and ponder on these little things, she was a working woman and her job was of a higher priority. She placed her left had on the display’s window, gave a small sigh and kept walking down the black paved road.

She walked into her workplace and greeted the receptionist with the simple gesture of everyday. Her coworkers all wore the same clothing she sported. Grey seemed to be the only color allowed in the building. On the elevator no one talked only the background music and the ding sound on every floor broke the silence. When she arrived at her desk she got right to work. It was a monotonous job. She took a sheet of the paper from the enormous pile that laid on the right side of her desk, read every detail on it, typed the outmost important details on the computer that took the left side of her desk and finally placed the sheet on a small table she had set up next to the desk. Hours passed and as her fellow workers left their desks so did Irene. This was how her days passed; waking up, walking on a seemingly endless road, longing for her long lost childhood, going to work and eventually returning home to start it all over.

When Irene Periwinkle woke up her eyes took longer to adjust to the brightness than ever in her short lived life. She had only been asleep for about an hour. Then she heard her dad at the distance calling her name. He sounded worried. When he found her she was taking some leaves out of her hair and adjusting her dress. He told her how worried he was, he thought something wrong could have happened to her and pleaded her to promise to never sleep out of the house ever again. She nodded in agreement. When they arrived at the house Irene saw her mother standing with a smile on her face, she was glad her husband had found her daughter. Irene’s mother hugged her and walked her into the house.

That night she spent more time with her parents than any other time she could remember. They played board games, watched a movie and spent a great time talking to each other. Her mother read Irene her favorite book and tucked her in. Her father turned her room’s lights of and kissed her goodnight. That night Irene didn’t have any dreams in particular, or at least not one she remembered the day afterwards. That morning as she got ready for school she put on her uniform and tied her hair in a ponytail. Irene was immensely joyful. That day Irene decided to say hello to her neighbor, she took a different road while walking to her school, changed her ways, determined to make new friends in school.

Irene Periwinkle is no longer your average little girl.