Happiness is sitting in front of the computer at night in a small flower Pajama to write an article, dad is reading a newspaper in the living room, in front of which is a cup of Biluochun with bubbles; mom is watching a TV play, and occasionally makes a few comments; cat "Maomao" curls up in a corner of the sofa and sleeps soundly. Happiness is to see the golden flowers of Milan planted by myself on the balcony in the morning. It is to find the long lost leather shoes under the bed during the cleaning. It is to watch grandma fall asleep slowly in the rocking chair, covered with the plaid shoulder that I gave her. Happiness is to be praised by the leader at work. After coming out of the director's office, he breathed a long breath, and then made a victory gesture exaggeratively. Happiness is to see a blind musician playing the flute on the side of the road. The melodious sound of the flute makes people forget to go back, so they take out all their change, and when they turn around and leave, their steps become brisk. Happiness is that in the middle of the night, I was troubled by nightmares. I woke up with sweat and found that the pillowcases were all wet. The moonlight flowed in through the window like water. Happiness is to look at the previous diary, think of the joy and trouble experienced in the green years, think of the simplicity and foolishness, think of the name that makes you heartache. Close the diary and smile. Happiness is to collect every bit of life, whether it's bitter or sweet, as the scenery income of life, and then go on the road with a more relaxed and unrestrained attitude.