The cheese that oozes out as the grease sizzles and the bread turns golden is what brings joy to the foodie. 

The small brush strokes that make up the big ocean while the white, blue, and green paint mixes together in a beautiful collision that leads to the bigger picture where it is the umbrella, not the water, that is the focus is what makes the artist happy. 

The joyful squeal of the toddler, who can barely walk but still manages to run with a smile on her face and not break herself or anything around her, while looking back at the tickle monster, whom she adores is what makes the mother happy. 

The smell of the crushed beans roasting brings a smile to the coffee-drinker and the rush of the floor falling out from under him while the wind is trying desperately to keep him and his fellow sky-divers from hitting the floor is what makes the adrenaline junkie satisfied. 

The little things like the pattern on the granite counter, respected by the interior designer or the newly polished queen piece only noticed by the chess player is what makes life go on.

If joy is not found in the little things, then where could it possibly be hiding?

If happiness is not the newly paved road, a new pair of running shoes, the baby birds learning to fly and the brownies fresh from the oven, then what is the feeling that all those things incite? 

In a world where you let the old lady only buying a lemon for her tea go in front of you in the grocery line only to find that she is the one millionth customer and she wins one thousand dollars, which you will not get a cent of, you must remember, always remember, never forget, that waking up to the smell of pancakes and falling gas prices are still there, and joy can be found in those, if not anything else.