Happy

All the Dragonflies died. 

They die every winter. 

They spend years underwater as little tadpole looking things, before crawling out of the water, sprouting wings, just to fly for a few weeks, before they die. 

So, when a Dragonfly approached him, saying, “Imagine her as happy,” he thought he had gone mad. 

He rubbed his eyes to double check he wasn’t seeing things, before taking his finger and clearing out the wax in his ears. 

The Dragonfly hoovered in front of his eyes. 

He blinked. 

“Imagine her as happy.”

“Why?” he asked the Dragonfly. 

“Because I said so.” He was surprised with how bossy the Dragonfly was. 

He sighed. “Okay. I’ll try.”

He closed his eyes and imagined her happy with her boyfriend. He imagined her fulfilled at work. He imagined her smiling and dancing in the living room, as she blasted metal music. He imagined her dog’s tail wagging in excitement. He imagined her packing up her apartment, happy. He imagined her cuddled up on top of him, a soft smile on her lips. 

“How’s it make you feel?” The Dragonfly asked. “Does it make you happy to imagine her as happy?”

“I don’t know . . . I think so?”

“Are you asking me what you feel?”

“No, I suppose not. I always imagined her as being miserable with him. But . . . What if she is happier without me? What if she is happier with him?”

“She probably is.”

“Oh . . .”

“Try to be happy for her.”

“I do want her to be happy. I really do. So, I guess . . . if he makes her happy, that should make me happy, too.”

“Everything is impermanent. Be grateful for the time you had together. Nature brought you two together for a reason. But nothing lasts for forever. You get 75 years of life. Dragonflies get 75 days. Make sure you live before you die.”

“Thanks, Mr Dragonfly.”

“I am a lady.”

“Oh.”

“Goodbye,” said the Dragonfly. 

"Until we meet again!" I called out to her as she flew away.

CH 3/13/26