“Are you happy?” My husband asks. I pause and think and finally say, “I don’t know. I’m not sure what that looks like anymore.” Fast forward (or rather slow forward) some months… I sit on my front porch surrounded by dirt and pots and plants. I’m focused on creating a fairy garden because I desperately need a project. Something to distract from months of stress. Months of worry about stressed-out teens. Never-ending months of worry about work and insurance and everyone’s mental health. Anxiety has been my companion for decades, but everyone has been home and inside and the weather refuses to warm up. So I sit and tinker. And…