Happiness, A Fine Aged Wine

It is often said "enjoy your youth because those good times won't last forever." However, people may think that the happiest days of their lives are when they're young, but a new study suggests that belief doesn't jibe with reality. The University of Michigan polled 540 adults in the 21-40 age group and 60+ age group. They rated their own happiness right now, predicted how happy they'd be in the future and also how happy they think others are in those age groups. The results were published in the "Journal of Happiness Studies", which is a delightful name for a scientific publication. The results overall, people have it wrong. They believe that most people become less happy as they age, when in fact this study and others have shown that people tend to become happier over time. Not only do younger people believe that older people are less happy, but older people believe they and others must have been happier "back then". Neither belief is accurate.

People often believe that happiness is a matter of circumstance. That if something good happens, they will experience long-lasting happiness. Or if something bad happens, they will experience long-term misery. Instead, people's happiness results more from their underlying emotional resources. Resources that appear to grow with age, much like a fine aged wine. People get better at managing life's ups and downs, and the result is that as they age, they become happier - even though their objective circumstances, such as their health, decline.

They say "the good die young", a saying well before my time. Growing up, I think I believed in those words. When I was 16, I honestly thought that I wouldn't live to see 18/19. Then after age 19, I somehow accepted the fact that I may live past my teen years. I have no idea why I thought I would die so young. For whatever reason, I believed that I would die a horrible and tragic death (usually traffic related) before the age of 20. It was just a "hunch" I had. It was something I made sure never to mention to my Mom for fear that it would upset her. Or that if I acknowledged such a morbid short-term future, that somehow I would give that vision life, which would mean the death of me. I realize that sounds very disturbing, even though today that vision is deceased.

Now that I'm a little older and I would like to think a bit wiser, I can see a future. My future may not exactly be in black and white. It may not be scripted out to the letter, but a vision is there. I can envision myself one day getting married. I can envision myself one day having kids. I can envision all those wonderful things and happy times I'm sure my parents envisioned in me the day I was born. And maybe I've watched too many movies or maybe I'm a hopeless romantic, but I can't help but feeling a little moved when I pass an old couple holding hands or sharing a quiet moment together. I wonder if today they are celebrating 60 years of marriage. Even from a distance looking on, I can feel the close bond they share. It travels lightly in the breeze and flutters past my heart like a butterfly. And I'm a little envious.

As far as happiness coming with age, I can't attest much to this study given the fact that society would still label me as "the youth". I'm still the one pouring the red wine rather than watching it age on the shelf. I haven't sat back and waited for happiness to arrive. I've had to go out and get it. For me, happiness comes from many things, but mostly from within. I like to believe this study is true. That as the days and the years go by, that I'll only grow more at peace with my life. That I will no longer look to want or need things in my life to bring me joy. That I could sit on a park bench holding my wife's hand in mine and feel content. Maybe happiness really does come with age?

This may sound odd, but there are times when I love being young and there are times when I wish I could fast forward life. Fast forward to a place of content. A place that I think would find on that park bench. Finishing each other's sentences. Retelling one another the same stories we have both heard 100 times before, but somehow we don't mind hearing them once more. It's the way she tells it. The way I look at her and see that beautiful 25-year-old girl telling me that story for the first time, on a first date, 60 years ago. How I loved to listen to her then. How I love to listen to her now. She's like a fine aged wine, and we are only getting better with time.

It's 2070 and I'm happy.