“What was your happiest moment in life?”
It was a foggy night, here in Manchester, when a friend of mine raised that question. We were eating, sharing some good laughs when the question struck me. I began to drown in my own complexity, reminiscing my past, and looking for a particular moment when I feel the happiest; the most contented.
I will always beaming in smile every single time I see my sister’s face. I will always fall in love with her every time I meet here. If that’s not what happiness is about, then I don’t know what is.
I remember my mother’s face when I received an email from LPDP stating that I will receive a Master’s scholarship. I remember the moment when she hugged me so hard while withstanding the urge to cry because we were in the middle of an ocean of people, in Pekan Raya Jakarta (PRJ).
I remember saying, “Go ahead, mom. I know you want to cry”, and then she sobbed happily in my embrace.
It was only yesterday that I walked around the city of Manchester, accompanied by the shimmering night lights. Yesterday was the day I stepped down as the President of PPI UK and I thought that a night walk could be a perfect build-up to contemplation. It was not until midway that I realized I was smiling throughout my night walk.
I was relieved. I am happy. I was overwhelmed with endorphins, dopamine, and serotonin. I was happy. In fact, I am happy.
But still, I can’t decide which particular crack of my life is the most precious. I cannot decide when was I the happiest. I wouldn’t even bother to pick between my sister, my mother, or my satisfaction to not be in the center of attention any longer.
Nonetheless, one question lingers: Am I ever truly happy?