You had no way of knowing but for the last few days I've been in a horrible, drag me down by the heels and drown me with the bed sheets kind of funk. The husband knew it was coming, I could tell. I'd been giving the signs clear as a bell that I was handing my normal sunny self over into the care of the blues and yesterday, he even took the unexpected action of coming home at noontime, leaving his office and all the work that piles for him by the second, just to come and spend some time with me because his usually happy wife was unusually depressed. My eyes watered at the singular kindness of his action, thankful as always that he knows me so well.
Don't be concerned, nothing terrible has happened to me. There really is no one special reason for this malaise. Rather, it has been a host of smaller worries that have ganged up on me, coalescing into this heaviness of the heart. They've lowered the wattage of my daily cheerfulness and somehow, because I've done nothing to limit their encroachment, they are loose and running their course through me. Hopefully spending themselves into tameness once more and leaving me free to ignore their dimmed selves.
There's a blatant reminder in the deliberateness of my actions, in the unbidden memory and in the unscripted fun playing itself out just yards from where I stand observing that help to decide me on a much needed change in course. I pay attention to the signs because sometimes, I do listen to myself when the me inside says that enough is enough.
For the now, I've opted for some mild shock therapy. I made a mojito this afternoon, from scratch, and in the drinking of my excellent concoction, I remembered a dear friend who once lovingly told me that whenever he drank a mojito he was especially reminded of me, all minty and sweet. The pleasure memory of his fond words did something good for my ego and that further prompted the impulse to turn on the music because music always lifts up my spirits so. From la vieja trova I chose an old Cuban song called la tarde se ha puesto triste (the afternoon has become sad). One could think about the counter-productivity of such a choice in song especially as Pedro Luis Ferrer sings this version and the man can make a rock weep talking about the lost things in life but, when it was done, I played it again twice while I observed my child swimming out by the pool, the sun and happiness painting soft slashes of pink on my boy's lovely cheeks, my wonderful husband careful and watchful of his safety and joy. And it was then that my own afternoon became less sad, that something eased and breathed freer inside me and that an old truth came upon me. Only I can invite what comes into my heart. Only I, can make it go.
There's a blatant reminder in the deliberateness of my actions, in the unbidden memory and in the unscripted fun playing itself out just yards from where I stand observing that help to decide me on a much needed change in course. I pay attention to the signs because sometimes, I do listen to myself when the me inside says that enough is enough.
I'm helped by knowing that my current concerns will soon realign themselves into something not even resembling a blip in my ever changing horizon; by taking stock of all the many things I DON'T ever have to worry about, and by recognizing the unique fortune of all that is mine to enjoy. Mojito in hand, music in my ear, I step outside to join the two people I love and the heart of my heart whispers everything I need to know -this will pass, if I only let it go.
