Right before I set out to write this post, Des knocked a ($1.00 bin at Target) pink crown off of Scarlet’s head.
She squealed, “Hey!” And quickly righted it on her head. However, not before I saw it tangled in her hair and I felt..weepy. That’s right. That $1.00 crown falling off her head made my eyes well up. I’m not pregnant. It’s not hormones. This is. My life. If you want a more in-depth description of the “mushy, squishy feeling,” I wrote about it long before anyone (but my mom) even knew I was a blogger. It’s HERE. It’s a feeling of indescribable mourning and sadness, triggered by seemingly small things:
– Eyeglasses folded neatly on a book on a nightstand.
– Crowns getting knocked off of heads, after being placed there so importantly.
– Elderly people fumbling for their wallets (this one was sent in by my mom)
– Women staring vacantly at the vast yogurt selections of a grocery store, late at night. (oddly specific, no?)
– Your kids. Your husband. Your parents. Your siblings. The people you love the most? Their pain will break your heart. Shattered.
– Animals in the winter. Do they have enough food and fur? Are they warm enough??
This had been on my mind before “The Great Crown Incident of 2014” because I received an email from a friend/fellow preschool parent saying that her little girl hadn’t been nice to Scarlet at school last week. I did ask Scarlet about it and she honestly had no ill feelings or lingering foul impressions of whatever had happened. This little girl is considerably younger than Scarlet and is awfully adorable and will definitely grow up to be an upstanding citizen. It’s just that…kids. Well, they’re kids.
Scarlet – made of tougher stuff than I am. Probably more than I’ve ever been and more than I’ll be. She’s rarely ever sick or sad, but she will struggle and doubt and fear and she will meet opposition and bullying and teasing. And heartbreak. That’s life. Let’s hope she’s not like me because I was fierce in my school days. And eventually no one would have ever had the guts to mess with me between that, my public ridicule of someone I didn’t like once (I regret), and having four tougher-than-me siblings.
Scarlet is the honey badger. “Honey badger don’t give a you-know-what.” I have seen her watch other kids squabble or tease or throw gravel, or just be kids, and she’ll shrug and walk away. She’ll immerse herself in a story or a puzzle, or with a friend.
I hope I say this enough, but I admire her. She drives me bat-you-know-what crazy, but I admire her a lot.
I’m sick right now, only I’ll never outright admit it. I’m a touch sick. It’s my first cold in nearly two years, and that’s only if I’m admitting that it’s a cold, and not allergies or having something in my eye for…three days. Speaking of pretending there’s something in my eye, I finished reading “Me Before You” and I’m glad I did it with a cold, because it really cleared my sinuses. Either that or I was happy that I did have a cold, because my nose-blowing didn’t seem unusual to my family. I felt destroyed.
Between that, and then my parents leaving – but only after my mom took my sick and sorry self out to shop, have some cookies and get pampered..between all of that, and winter’s cold and early darkness, and intense work stress and fear, the squishy, mushy, all-around missing feelings are particularly hard. I had trouble listening to “Every Little Kiss” by Bruce Hornsby because it reminded me of warm sun. And of missing people. And of heartbreak. And I don’t even have a broken heart. Not a fresh one. Just remnants of a million broken hearts. And maybe a million new ones a day. Bear with me and my sick and sorry self, friends.
Disney World, warmth and fear-conquering. They’re coming. And more on moments like this:
Do you understand the “squishy” feeling? What gives you it? Have you ever been destroyed by a wonderful book? How do you cope with your pure sadness? I call it that because it’s not depression, and it’s almost healthy-feeling. Or right-feeling. It’s temporary-feeling. I can still feel the joy, laughter and excitement..of everything when I’m purely sad. Sad is normal. Sad is ok sometimes.