Last year I had ‘one of those years’, where I seemed to have a lot of bad stuff happening.
From close family and friends being diagnosed with cancer, my own health scare, and other personal challenges, it seemed like that saying was correct – “When it rains, it pours.”
The truth was that all of those events were compounding on top of me, pushing me further downward each and every time another one happened; until I was at the point where I didn’t think I could go much further down.
But then something happened. Someone happened, and the irony was that they’d been there the whole time, right in front of me, just being masked by my cynical adult eyes.
The other day I was reminded of this person and this ‘something’, as I watched the film H is for Happiness (based on Barry Jonsberg’s young adult novel My Life as an Alphabet). As I saw the freckle-faced, 12-year-old character of Candice Phee on screen, straight away, my own seven-year-old, freckle-faced daughter came to my mind.
Before even speaking, just with the fresh glint of positivity in her eye, I saw that sense of boundless optimism inherent within Candice that is shared by my own daughter, Addison.
Just like Candice in H is for Happiness, it was with Addison’s unique view of the world and her honest determination that brought happiness back into my life when I felt as if it had truly disappeared.
See the beautiful H is for Happiness trailer below. Post continues after video.
You see, there is something about Addison, my Addi, that not everyone has. She is wise beyond her years with a level of empathy and observation that many adults don’t even possess, yet she is filled with optimism, honesty and the determination of a child.
So, one day after hearing some devastating news about a close friend of mine, although I wasn’t crying or visibly upset, with her incredible powers of observation she noticed I wasn’t myself.
“Mumma, what’s wrong?” She asked me, her arm on my back, just as I often do with her in times when I know she needs comfort.
“I’m just a bit sad,” I replied, not wanting to tell her all the details but sharing enough that she would know that there was something wrong.
But Addi didn’t stop then and walk away. She asked me more questions, for more details, she wanted to understand what was making me feel that way. And then after succumbing to her questions (did I mention her persistence?), she looked me directly in the eye and told me something, then did something I will never, ever forget.