Happiness and Perfection

Someone once said that all happy families are alike, but unhappy families have their own unique miseries.

DPP's family is a happy one. Looking at him and L today at their seder, I wonder how they manage to be so picture-perfect so effortlessly. I don't envy them, because people don't envy others for things that are far out of reach. Mostly I sit in awe of them.

They are both smart, lively, and charming. Both of them have degrees from prestigious undergrad and grad schools. DPP is witty and smooth, while L is more bubbly and wholesome. (I swear that every time I look at her that word invariably comes into my mind.) Their parents were great friends and they were high school sweethearts. He is studying for his doctorate in English, something that I swear he was born to do. She is a law clerk for a federal judge. They have traveled widely and lived in France for a year. When they came back, they got married. She cried when he proposed. Their wedding was in July in Oregon, in a vineyard, on a beautiful summer day.

If I were more cynical, or knew them less well, I would think that there must be some flaw, some dark side, to them. Their happines must not be perfect. They must have some secrets, soem heartbreak, beneath the calm surface. But I know them. I have known DPP for nearly 9 years now, and Laura for almost that long, and they have always been like this: calm, confident, self-assured, HAPPY.

Their apartment is spotless. I believe that your environment reflects your soul, which is why my apartment is messy and badly furnished (seriously, I really do believe that. My soul is disorganized and cluttered and self-contradictory. There are too many things in there that would take me (or a psychiatrist) years to sort out). But theirs is well-ordered, clean, charming, lively, bright, a perfect symbol of their lives. There are always flowers in the vase, New Yorkers and NY Review of Books laid out neatly on the coffee table, and something yummy cooking in the oven. It's not that their apartment is just clean but devoid of life either. There are books everywhere, newspapers and notes, too. There are little decorations and photos and comfy chairs and bottles of wines... and yet, everything has its place.

Both of them like to cook. Last time I visited them, DPP's mother was there, and they were making challah together for their Shabbat dinner. Making challah from scratch! For Shabbat! Is there anything more wholesome than that? They experimented with making a garden in the backyard where they grew mint and peas. They hike in the park on Sundays. They are quirky... DPP love to sing and displays a guitar in the livingroom. In spite of being Jewish, he sings for an Episcopilian (I think) church every week and gives concerts periodically. They go to parties and concerts and museums and book-signings. They have many friends and a rich life. They are in love with each other after 12 years, and they are happy. Can you believe that such people really exist?

Happiness is an accident for me; there is always something precarious about it. It always makes me anxious because I am afraid that something disturb and overturn the balance. How can one be so sure? Perhaps DPP and L are extraordinarily lucky. Perhaps they are also very wise, and want what is within their grasp. But they are extraordinarily lucky because what is within their grasp is already so much. How many people find their love of their lives in high school? Even if they do, how many people will say to themselves: "I love her/him, but I'm young and want to see what else is out there?" only to realize years later that they've made a mistake? How many people are lucky enough to have what they want, and wise enough to treasure what they have?