Allow me a few different types, and a few different moments of each.
Instances of innocent joy:
~Jumping off the car-hood in my batgirl cape, thinking I could fly.
~Twirling skirts outside in fresh morning air.
~Petting the nose of a goat.
~Eating; this almost deserves a whole category unto itself: walking into a lolly shop and picking out a favorite mix: jersey caramels, licorice allsorts, widgety grubs, chocolate bullets...gorging on a whole bag of salt and vinegar chips... senses alighted by curry in an Indian dive on a trip to melbourne with Dad.
~Opening up a christmas present in Grandma’s house; the biggest teddy bear I ever saw.
~Watching a guinea-pig nibble-eating.
~Having a baby wombat burrow under my arm and sigh with contentment.
~Listening to “La donna e mobile” by Pavorotti while learning how to cook meatballs.
~Being engrossed in a Roald Dahl book.
Of romantic joy:
~A successful flirtation; cheeks flushed in abject blushery.
~Seeing my love face to face after years of living on separate continents. Feeling his beard on my neck.
~Frittering hours in marital bliss; mind and heart leaping nakedly in pure attraction.
~Sharing laughs, drinks and hearty conversations.
~Communicating in nothing but facial expressions.
~Coincidentally waking up in the middle of the night with mutually indecent intentions.
Of prideful joy:
~Finally climbing high enough to reach the juiciest plums.
~Releasing a rescued bird.
~Writing something readable.
~Each time one of my babes was handed to me for the first time.
~Breastfeeding successfully after hours of exaustion and tears.
~Teaching my children to read.
~ Seeing their wonder at simple things like bubblewrap and bumblebees.
I’m trying to ascertain why my most joyful moment is so difficult to pin-point.
I think it’s because joy doesn’t actually live in my memories; I remember that these were all moments that the elusive creature “Joy” firmly visited, but on reflection I’m always at least a little sad they’re in the past.
Sheer joy is the wild look on my toddler’s face as she runs up and hugs me good morning. It is playing boardgames with my family. Hearing my baby son’s laugh when I pull a funny face. Snuggling down in a warm bed on a cold night, with a welcoming arm on my waist. Watching a good musical first thing in the morning just because we all feel like it. Joy is in moments that happen often and promise to happen again.