My second son was born. A little bigger than my first had been. The newborn I lifted for the first time in a while—his body was soft and light, yet from it a warmth seeped deep and heavy into my chest.
Trying to tell relatives and friends how glad I was that our family had grown, I stalled for a moment on the words. "So happy." Nothing more followed. I do not seem to have much vocabulary for happiness.
I have used a lot of words for things that do not go well. I have lined up difficult compounds until the screen goes black, and learned plenty of katakana too. Somehow, naming what hurts makes it a little easier to handle.
Happy things, on the other hand, are sloppy. Laugh and shout, and that was enough. I never even needed to tell "fun" from "glad." Either one, as it was, gave me no trouble.
I thought a little longer, and put into words how it felt to hold my second son.