Saturday in CinCity. The Remembrance of Things Past Edition.

Happiness


by Joyce Sutphen

This was when my daughters were just children

playing on the rocky shore of the lake,



their hair in braids, their bright-colored jackets

tied around their waists. It was afternoon,



the shadows falling away, their faces

glowing with light. Whatever we said then



(and it must have been happy; it must have

been hopeful) is lost as I am now lost



from that life I lived. This was when nothing

that I wanted mattered, though all I wanted



was happiness, pure happiness, simple

as strawberries and cream in a saucer,



as curtains floating from a window sill,

as small pairs of shoes arranged in a row.