I cried twice yesterday. It was a Sunday, which is a hard day for me anyway- I get what I call the "Sunday Dreads". It's a heavy melancholy that perhaps stems long ago from having to go to school on Monday mornings. I'd watch Walt Disney and knew that once Columbo came on, I'd have to go to bed and then get up for math. Blech.
But I felt worse than just normal Sunday Dread stuff yesterday. I was sad. Really fucking sad. And what I normally do when I'm sad is avoid it. I cook, or clean the house, or go shopping, or drink 17 beers (what emotions?). But I spent a lot of money on therapy recently, and one of the things I learned is sometimes you just gotta let yourself feel sad. It's a requirement for overall happiness. The Universe has linked sadness to joy, and if you cut off one, you also deprive yourself of the other. That Universe is a Fucker, and also invented hangovers, if that's any clue as to how maddeningly clever It is.
So I sat down in the shower, turned it on, and cried for a long time. I realize this is a lot of information for you guys- the sitting in the shower business. But that's what I do, and please let's not talk about it if I see you out. It feels good, and I get some serious crying done, bitches.
So I did that, and then went about my day, and pretty much forgot about it. That afternoon my neighbor decided to wash her car with her kids and invited me down to hang out and drink pink wine with her. For the record, I don't think pink wine is ever the right thing to do- unless you're my dad who drinks it over ice and doesn't give a shit. But I walked down there anyway.
And there they were. Kind of washing the car. We'll call it more of an approximation. Mostly they were spraying water at things not anywhere near the car- like some bugs and that one tree over there. Then mom took the hose and sprayed the kids, who squealed and giggled, and ran away and came back for more, and water ran into little Zoe's green happy-face galoshes so that when she walked it made this beautiful wet squeak squeak on the inside sound which only further amused everyone. And there it was: JOY. Beautiful, unfettered joy that arrived unannounced and cupped us all in its capable hands, and held us there for just the shiniest minute.
I walked back up the street to my house, and I cried a little on the way. But this time from joy. I was abuzz from joy, and my response, besides laughing and smiling, was to cry. For the second time. I'll take that first one- the sitting in the shower my life is a horrible mess and it's all my fault and I'll probably get something in my ear again one- if I also get to have this one. While the Universe is indeed a Fucker, It is a fair Fucker.