January 1, 2001
Happiness is dressing up in a fine dress on New Year's Eve, and walking into a formal party on the arm of a good-looking man wearing a sharp tuxedo.
Happiness is having complete strangers come up to compliment you on your dress and to ask you timidly where in the world you ever found something so beautiful, in tones that suggest, "Oh my, I'd love to have such a beautiful dress for myself."
Happiness is having old friends arch their eyebrows and tell you how wonderful you're looking tonight.
Happiness is walking around the outside balcony of the Chinese Room of the Smith Tower with your beloved, feeling the wind whip at your hair, and watching the city below, all lit up and still quiet.
Bliss is kissing your sweetheart at the stroke of midnight as a new millennium begins, with the glow of fireworks lighting up the night sky and the sounds of people cheering and blowing horns rising up from all across the waterfront and neighborhoods of Seattle.
Joy is watching the Space Needle all lit up with fiery explosions and bursts of light, and knowing that in hundreds of other cities all across the world, people are shouting and celebrating and kissing and dancing and seeing in the New Year.
Contentment is sitting quietly at home on New Year's Day, playing new Christmas games with the man you love, listening to music on the radio, and thinking about all the ways that this year is going to be different, and going to be the same.
Satisfaction is knowing that you have arrived in the future, in the year 2001, and that you are in a good place, a place you want to be.
Happy New Year, my friends.