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The happy memory comes as divine deja vu, sitting in my synapses for a moment and resetting my mood to sunny days ahead.

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The happy memory unfolds as the pages of a beloved childhood storybook.

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With a carefree talent that echoes the joy of nature herself, the bird swoops toward the grass with a confidence that makes it a camera flash moment, a tiny fraction of time that etches itself into the happy memories.

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It is the happy memories that sustain us, that carry us through the challenging times of loss, and remind us that our loving was important and worthwhile.

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The happy memory comes as a welcome stranger through the door, suddenly present and lighting up the room with a smile.

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White bells fill the meadows under a sun that beckons them to grow strong and beautiful. I can see them now, as if I were back in that time, in those early days of the renaissance.

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Soft guitar music, the aroma a new loaf rising in the hot oven, and the sweet smile of my lover... happy memories have a way of saving when nothing else can.

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The happy memories that nurture are forever the simple, the humble and everyday, the things that mother earth and heaven bestow.

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The happy memories come as spring blooms, only ever needing an invitation from the sun.

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The echoes of our summer days remain as flowers immune to winter chills.