The Happiness Tree?

The Crape Myrtle is one of my favorite trees, so I am pleased that one graces the front yard of our home. It has a full crown of green leaves and lush fuchsia blooms during spring and summer. It follows up each autumn with a fiery fall display. In winter, even the bare branches look interesting against gray skies. I've told my husband -- and now my three-year old -- that the tree makes me smile year round. So perhaps that was the origin of my daughter's remark a few weeks ago?

We were eating our PBJ sandwiches on the front porch bench, looking out towards the Crape Myrtle tree. I noticed the contrast between our tree with only a couple dozen blooms remaining, and our neighbor's crape myrtle tree, still sporting hundreds of blooms. Doing the Mom thing, I looked to nature to engage Maya in a bit of compare/contrast discussion:

"Maya, why do you think our neighbor's tree has so many more flowers than ours?"

She studied both trees thoughtfully. "I don't know, Mommy," she said, slowly taking another bite of her sandwich. Clearly the question was of interest, because now she was furrowing her brow, staring first at one tree, then the other, then back again.

OK, not such an interesting exchange, I thought. A few minutes of quiet passed. Sandwiches continued to be consumed. My thoughts shifted from nature reflections to the piles of problems on my desk to be resolved the next day. Then Maya offered a quiet observation.

"Mommy? I think your happiness is at the top of that tree."

What did she just say? I actually looked at the tree top for a moment, then at Maya who was pointing one jelly-stained finger at the tree, encouraging me to see whatever it was she was seeing.

"My happiness?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Yes," she said, adding "and all you have to do is catch it when it falls down."

Pause. Blink. Blink again. Did my three-year old really just talk to me like a personal spiritual adviser?

I don't know that her words made perfect sense, but that didn't much matter. They sounded beautiful to my ears, relevant somehow, and startled me in a lovely way.

In the coming days I kept sharing the exchange with family and friends, curious to hear their reaction. Everyone smiled and said things like "wow, out of the mouths of babes" or "she is so creative." For me, it just felt like something...more. I couldn't shake the sense that the universe was sending me a message through the messenger who could best capture my attention.

A few weeks have since passed. The crape myrtle lost its last flowers and I see the first signs of green leaves turning gold. I stare at "my happiness tree" more these days then I already did. I know I don't need one when I have this amazing kid, making me smile every day. Still, I'll keep my eyes open as Maya suggested, ready to catch any happiness when it falls.