When I was a little girl, I remember the one thing that my grandmother would always tell me as we were about to part from one another. Her gentle eyes would look at me with the sorrow of a woman who saw too much in her lifetime, yet with the hope that I would be spared the horrors she endured in her younger years. "Just be happy," she softy said as she kissed me goodbye.
Compared to all of the other things adults would often say or ask of me, this seemed fairly easy. I mean, how hard was it to be happy when you were a kid? Life consisted of activity and play. People cooked for you, looked after you, protected you