Happiness to me is when I am reading in a bathtub.

As a young child, my mother was a single mother working long hours in a pediatric OR saving children’s lives. She was (and is) a bad ass. And I wanted to be her more than I wanted to be Barbie…which is saying something for a young girl. So obviously, I wanted to spend every single moment with her that I could. I would follow her around the house, copying her every move (as an adult, I can’t imagine how much harder I ended making small tasks because I wanted “to help” — I’m sorry Mom! I love you!), trying to learn how to be as amazing as her. I followed her everywhere, including the bathroom. To relax after a long day on her feet in surgery, my mother would take a bath and read a book. So, naturally, I had to as well. Within the warm water and bubbles and getting lost in whatever book I was reading at that time, I felt safe, loved, and protected.

To this day, that is my favorite thing to do. I can have the worst day where nothing goes right,  a bath and book can turn it all around. There is something so comforting, relaxing,  and heavenly about it that I just cannot find in anywhere else. The warm water caressing my body, cleansing it of the stress of the world, and harkening back to the carefree days of my childhood.