Everyone yearns to be happy, don’t they? It would be interesting to find out how many books have been written about the pursuit of happiness. Or happyness, as the recent Will Smith movie spelled the word that eludes many of us, even though it is often right in front of our noses.
     My mother-in-law hadn’t reacted with pleasure when my husband called to tell her of our idea to drive to Wisconsin over Easter weekend. We wanted to celebrate her 85th birthday with her. She pooh-poohed the idea of a family party, saying 85 was no big deal. But we insisted, calling her other son and grandchildren to let them in on our plans.
     My mother-in-law is a tiny woman; a mere slip of a girl as they said in turn-of-the-century literature. She has a halo of fine white hair, but Betty’s no old lady. In fact, whenever my husband proffers an arm or hand to assist her, she practically slaps it away, insisting she can maneuver just fine on her own.
     Her favorite pastime is walking. Although the length of her daily walks (weather permitting) has shortened, she can often be seen trekking from her apartment building to nearby shops or Culver’s restaurant; and recently to the hospital to welcome her second great grandchild.
     Betty hasn’t had an easy life. She worked hard—well into her 70s—managing an apartment complex in Milwaukee until she moved to a seniors’ building in a small town near her youngest son. But she’s a survivor, still living independently, and relishing her new tenant, a cat named Snuggles.
     Once a voracious reader, well-known to librarians and the bookmobile attendant, we were sad when her eyesight began to fail. No longer would we be able to send her thrillers (the scarier the better), her favorite genre. A book was considered a success in her eyes if a corpse was discovered before the end of the first chapter. Author James Patterson never disappointed her.
     Betty loves movies, too—the hair-raising kind. When we visited five years ago, we brought along our granddaughter. The newest Harry Potter film was playing at the theater and I thought Betty would want to see it with my husband and granddaughter. Instead, she opted for Oceans Eleven with me. "What do you think?" I asked her, half-way through the film.
     "He’s no Frank Sinatra," she said, referring to George Clooney in the role of Danny Ocean.
     There were no movies or scary books for my mother-in-law the Saturday before Easter. Just a nice family brunch with the guest of honor seated at the head of the table surrounded by her progeny. She knew what she would order without looking at the menu. French toast, her favorite, a portion so large she would have to take some home for the next day. And probably the day after that.
     Seated around the birthday girl were her two sons and the women who love them, a grandson and his wife who had driven from Chicago, and two granddaughters. One was accompanied by her husband and their two small children.
     I couldn’t take my eyes off Betty as she took in her family that morning. Her face shone with love and pride, full of the happiness we all hope to find. True joy that comes from being enfolded by the people you love. Who love you in return. Could there be a better birthday gift?
     Or a finer legacy?