“We’re fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance.” – Japanese Proverb

My kids and I are visiting our happy place. The funny thing about happy places is that I think they are contagious.

There’s a backstory (isn’t there always?). We rented out our house again on AirBnB. I figured we should take advantage of all that work we did to get our house ready. Because there’s nothing like being displaced from your home to inspire an adventure.

So we are staying up at our friends’ place on Whidbey Island. Last week when I was updating the guest book instructions for our house at 10pm after finishing 10 loads of laundry and making up five beds, I couldn’t believe I had chosen to make our house guest ready again. But the expansive sense of beachside escapades made it all worth it the moment we arrived.

Unlike our previous travels to see friends this summer where we stayed in 10 different places in 19 days and spent more than 40 hours on planes and trains, getting here was really easy. Three hours door to door and that included waiting in the line for the ferry and stopping at the store to buy dinner.

After unpacking the cold items into the fridge, we piled back into the car to show my mom and my sister to our favorite farmer’s market on the island before it ended at 2pm. My kids excitedly narrated every hot spot went by: the place where the hot chocolate is yucky, the corner shop where we used to buy donuts before they closed, the thrift store for random rainy day toys. And then we passed a guy fixing his bike tire by the side of the road.

I polled the carful of people to see if we should stop to help. My kids in their enthusiastic mood that accompanies being in a happy place said, “Sure! Can we get out?”

The puncture of his tire was done by a nail so big that even with a new tube, he was worried the tube would just balloon out the hole. Our tire repair kit or pump wasn’t going to help. So I told him there was a bike shop next to the farmer’s market and we’d be happy to drive him.

He and his bike piled in with us, probably reassured that we weren’t going to do him any harm given the messy state of the car or the enthusiastic kids. As we drove, we listened in on his call to his friend that he had been riding on the island with reporting that he’d met some VERY friendly people and was being driven to a bike shop.

After we left him to go to the bike shop and we headed into the farmer’s market, I was amused by everyone’s interpretation of what just had happened.

My sister thought we were so friendly that we were scary.

My mom wondered if we’d ever get to where we were going if we stopped to help every human and animal along the way.

My kids thought the guy’s name – Harold – was funny.

And I thought happy places, real or metaphorical, make helpful people.

(featured photo from Pexels)

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