The sunset was a medley of all colors red, and it was like a fire in the sky; the French Alps were in sharp contrast to the blazing fire above them. The couple stood leaning into each other- they were only a silhouette.
“I’m soo happy for you,” my mother stated, her voice wasn’t emotionless as much as it was truthful; she was really just happy for the woman in front of her, and stoically devoid of any other thoughts on the matter.
I simply stared at the picture our guest was showing us with my best imitation of a calm demeanor, while my mind shrieked, “She got married in France, in the Alps! There was even a sunset behind her!!”
I sat at the kitchen counter, my elbows on the table, and my feet dangling off of the absurdly high chairs. My mother bustled about the kitchen and produced my breakfast (of pancakes with chocolate syrup) with a happy smile. We hadn’t done this kind of thing in a long, long time.
Maybe it was because I was swinging my legs and eating chocolate covered pancakes, or maybe it was just the smile on my mother’s face, but I felt five again, and I wanted to talk to my mother like I had talked to her then- not our usual, mundane, and potentially alienating, topics of chores and grades, but about things: thoughts, hypotheses, crises etc. - just things.
“The news from yesterday was really cool,” I began, “Imagine getting married in France. The picture made the place look so beautiful!”
“Well the French have always liked to do things in style,” she said - or something like that anyway. I was drifting away into my thoughts of sailing off into the sunset and getting happy endings; I was dreaming of a day when the movie of my life would end, and was wondering who my director-inspiration was- Woody Allen maybe? No, someone with a Jane Austen-y inclination..
“I can’t believe it,” I said, “here I am, facing important decisions at 17, and I get to see what a happy ending looks like. Was this some sort of cruel joke to tease me with?” I really meant it; my life lacked that Jane Austen factor- at the rate I was going, I was worried about whether I could even have an ending at all, let alone a happy one.
“A happy ending?” my mother snorted, “Isn’t that concept a bit too juvenile? Even for you?” I swear that the last three words were spoken contempt even if she is my mother and she loves me.
Is the concept of happy endings juvenile?
Well, for starters, life doesn’t just end like movies and books do. So, I suppose it’s childish to thinking of such things. But phases of life do end, and new ones start.
Happy ending is not a singular term. We all have many endings in our life, and whether these are happy or not depends on us.
Isn’t looking forward to a happy ending similar to looking forward to the completion of a long term-goal? Happy endings are simply moments in the future when the emotional rollercoaster or life reaches a high, what’s so wrong about thinking about them?
I’m not stupid (no, really); I know that living changes as we go through the course of life. There are times when things will never ever be the same again: those turning points can be the fulfillment of goals, or simply a change in personality or personal outlook.
Shouldn’t we all be working towards such turning points? Shouldn’t we all be working to better ourselves or climbing mountains that will get us where we want to go? Isn’t working towards change the purpose of life?
Happy endings are successful turning points; in reality, there are no unsuccessful turning points, because you reach one until you have succeeded. What’s so juvenile about happy endings? They’re goals, and they’re the perpetrators of change- what’s life without change, and what fun is a roller coaster without any highs?
“I’m soo happy for you,” my mother stated, her voice wasn’t emotionless as much as it was truthful; she was really just happy for the woman in front of her, and stoically devoid of any other thoughts on the matter.
I simply stared at the picture our guest was showing us with my best imitation of a calm demeanor, while my mind shrieked, “She got married in France, in the Alps! There was even a sunset behind her!!”
…
I sat at the kitchen counter, my elbows on the table, and my feet dangling off of the absurdly high chairs. My mother bustled about the kitchen and produced my breakfast (of pancakes with chocolate syrup) with a happy smile. We hadn’t done this kind of thing in a long, long time.
Maybe it was because I was swinging my legs and eating chocolate covered pancakes, or maybe it was just the smile on my mother’s face, but I felt five again, and I wanted to talk to my mother like I had talked to her then- not our usual, mundane, and potentially alienating, topics of chores and grades, but about things: thoughts, hypotheses, crises etc. - just things.
“The news from yesterday was really cool,” I began, “Imagine getting married in France. The picture made the place look so beautiful!”
“Well the French have always liked to do things in style,” she said - or something like that anyway. I was drifting away into my thoughts of sailing off into the sunset and getting happy endings; I was dreaming of a day when the movie of my life would end, and was wondering who my director-inspiration was- Woody Allen maybe? No, someone with a Jane Austen-y inclination..
“I can’t believe it,” I said, “here I am, facing important decisions at 17, and I get to see what a happy ending looks like. Was this some sort of cruel joke to tease me with?” I really meant it; my life lacked that Jane Austen factor- at the rate I was going, I was worried about whether I could even have an ending at all, let alone a happy one.
“A happy ending?” my mother snorted, “Isn’t that concept a bit too juvenile? Even for you?” I swear that the last three words were spoken contempt even if she is my mother and she loves me.
…
Is the concept of happy endings juvenile?
Well, for starters, life doesn’t just end like movies and books do. So, I suppose it’s childish to thinking of such things. But phases of life do end, and new ones start.
Happy ending is not a singular term. We all have many endings in our life, and whether these are happy or not depends on us.
Isn’t looking forward to a happy ending similar to looking forward to the completion of a long term-goal? Happy endings are simply moments in the future when the emotional rollercoaster or life reaches a high, what’s so wrong about thinking about them?
 |
| It's all for the highs. From: angelicarbrem.blogspot.com |
I’m not stupid (no, really); I know that living changes as we go through the course of life. There are times when things will never ever be the same again: those turning points can be the fulfillment of goals, or simply a change in personality or personal outlook.
Shouldn’t we all be working towards such turning points? Shouldn’t we all be working to better ourselves or climbing mountains that will get us where we want to go? Isn’t working towards change the purpose of life?
Happy endings are successful turning points; in reality, there are no unsuccessful turning points, because you reach one until you have succeeded. What’s so juvenile about happy endings? They’re goals, and they’re the perpetrators of change- what’s life without change, and what fun is a roller coaster without any highs?
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