The Color of Happiness

“What’s your favorite color?” the little girl asked her father.

“I like all colors equally,” he replied, as he watched the yellow ball slip from her hands.
She squealed and ran after the ball, oblivious to his answer.

He followed in her footsteps as she tried to stop the ball from bouncing away. The leaves were  turning golden in the park. The sun cast a warm glow, offering reprieve from the cold. Late afternoons were the best for a walk in the park during winter. There was light and warmth and laughter.

The little girl called out to her father to hurry up. He quickened his footsteps and scooped her up in his arms, making her giggle in delight.

“Daddy, you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Which one?” he asked, since she’s at that age of asking questions every few minutes and he couldn’t keep up with them.

“Your favorite color.”

He smiled and was on the verge of repeating his answer from before.
But then he saw his daughter looking up at him with her wide eyes, her face almost the same size as the bright yellow ball. He felt warmth from the sun and her hand in his.
He made a show of thinking long and hard about her question.

After a while, he said, “I like the color of happiness.”

“What’s the color of happiness?” she asked, looking puzzled by his answer.

He smiled and said, “Today, it’s yellow.”

The ginko leaves crackled underneath as father and daughter walked along the road.