Regret. Refresh. Rejoice. Reload.

Gosh, I have typed and erased an opening line so many times now, its ridiculous!

It's our wedding anniversary today. Five years. And I decided to begin it (well precede it) with a fight. Because I suffer from this 'occasion' trap syndrome. And I let my doubts over our differences swirl around my head with cigarette smoke. Thought of really cruel things to say, said some as well. From a smiling face, Nino's Dad when to a rather familiar place, silence. And as I sat twirling rogan josh on my plate while Nino chattered nineteen to a dozen, I realised how I'd come so close to not having a wedding anniversary today. How grateful I was that we were still together, still a family, disjointed and imperfect perhaps, but a tangible part of each other's lives.

Nino's Dad doesn't get ticked off too easily, and when he does, his forgiveness or peace takes a while to come. Just one of our many differences. When I hugged him and said sorry, I counted the 20 seconds it took his arm to come around and hug me as well. But it did. And it stayed there as I muttered my sheepish self-analysis. And my heartfelt gratitude that he'd walked those necessary steps towards me when we were faltering.

I wanted to share this with you - you know, because well, you've had a sorta ring-side view to the venting of my pain - and I realised I'm awkward, gauche when it comes to writing about the good stuff.

Maybe it is easier for me to share my pain. I know it well, and I've words and songs and silences that give it a familiar form. Joy? Ah, that. See, pain is one complete, all encompassing feeling. Joy is schizophrenic. There's happiness, glee, joy.... it's too dependent on someone else to be truly mine.

But that is where I'm wrong. I've read and known enough to know both pain and joy come from within us - someone else is just a convenient tangent.

As I sit here on my bed, still in pj's, a nicely scrubbed up Nino staring at the tv with an open mouth, and Nino's Dad sleeping through the noise, I'm happy. Not the delirious version. The content, calm one. Perhaps happiness has as many versions as me!

We plan to spend the evening with the one thing all three of us love: food. Nino and Nino's Dad will cook, mumma will play dj. In between I will groan about how long the food is taking, how the two chefs only want me to chop and clean but not stand with them. Then I'll sulk out of the kitchen and fight back that stinging happiness in my eyes as I hear them chuckling with laughter together.