Just before the sweet pull of sleep dragged me under, I had a brilliant lightbulb moment for this post. But when I finally woke up after a ten-minute snooze, my battery felt recharged, yet poof—the brilliance had vanished into that invisible space where neglected thoughts go to die.
I’m feeling somber. Otis Redding’s “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” plays in my earbuds, its somber tone matching my mood. The mental fog is thick, and I’m standing in it, my shouts going unheard. I’m not the type to throw energy to the sun so I sit cross-legged, too drained to do much more than twiddle my thumbs.
Remember that yarn game? The one where you cut a two-foot strand, tie the ends together, and create magic with it? You could make whirly brooms or, with a partner, do flips and turns to create intricate spider web designs. I miss the simplicity and joy of that time in elementary school.
Adulthood feels heavy with responsibilities, seriousness, and sadness, putting all the simple and sweet things just out of reach, high up in a glass cookie jar on a top shelf. But I keep reaching, because sinking into oblivion isn’t the vision I see for myself.
I’ll probably get a message tomorrow asking if I’m okay. It happens often when my posts sound a bit morose. I promise, I’m fine. Really. These posts reflect only a fleeting emotional state, and by the time we chat, I’ll have had a good night’s sleep, a hearty breakfast, and a decent conversation.
There are certain things I tuck under my armpit like a secret journal. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to let them breathe life on a page—to tell their stories of confusion, joy, and uncharted worlds. They’re the kinds of stories you’d stay up late to listen to, the ones you never want to hang up on. But instead, I’ll likely burn them in the metaphorical barrel at the back of my mind.
Watching “Lady and the Tramp” in bed with Evelyn snuggled in my armpit was a highlight tonight. Her questions and concerns about the talking dogs (but not talking to humans?) was so cute. I enjoyed hearing her spin, and how her eyes brightened when instead of the hero dog dying, he waddled in on a casted leg at the movie’s end.
She’s the best part of my life.
I love you. Goodnight.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 