Is it foreboding, foreshadowing or both to wake up with that awful song, “Had a Bad Day” stuck in your head?
No writing for two days and beating myself up a bit over that. I spent the weekend on the verge of tears. Never let them out, just allowed them to soak back in. A choppy ride down the red river may be partly to blame. Had full blood work done recently and - happily - still have the 26-day hormones of a teenager, to which a dear woman friend replied, “Oh really!” or “Well, duh!” I can’t recall which exactly but I got the gist of it.
Very much menstrual, thank you.
No, Uncle Joe just feelin’ kinda low at the junction. Sadness is born of what’s lacking in the moment, this I know, and traditionally family or kid centric holidays often bring a bit of the blues. I don’t necessarily believe in the family unit as one tied to biological strings and cells, but I’ve yet to build a new home, one of caring brothers and sisters with time to share and the desire to hold a heart safe. At least not in the tri-county area.
It’s having been a part of past traditions I miss - Easter brunch and hollow chocolate bunny ears. The peeps. With the malls closed, I did laundry and ironed most of what I already own, moved the spring and summer clothes up from the basement. It's rejuvenating to see a fresh row of filmy tops and dresses hanging in perfect unison, most of it what I wore last year. Need to pump up the weight loss, not that it will make me happier but rather offer a completely self involved act of taking care of myself. There’s value in that.
I used to imagine single adult life as chock full of fanciful goings-on, lunches, soirées, loads of dating men who wear suit jackets. Loads of friends calling with weekend plans for brunch and get-aways. I’ve somehow missed the train or it went past, me without a ticket.
And here’s where I stop writing because it sounds desperate and lonely, which mostly it’s not. Just a sprinkling, a sometimes dusting. But words can be wicked and what’s read into them dangerous. More than one man has wanted to “rescue” me after reading them. Rescue me from what? My pants? Myself? I think it’s less rescue and more protection, which I like and which I can take in bigger does than most realize. I very much like the hand on my back when being guided to the table outside, specifically requesting shade since I don’t care to sit in direct sunlight. I do want (or is it need?) more of that.
And a chocolate bunny.