Sad Day

Today is a sad day. They come along every once in awhile, less often for me than some. Not hole up in a dark room and cry kind of sad. Just a quiet, achey kind of sad. I've done lots of the sad things already. I stayed in my PJ's until 11:00 and drank more coffee than I should have. I snapped at my family. I reorganized all of my clothes, ready to pack. I looked through old pictures of happy times. I made brownies just to eat the raw dough. I've stared silently into space. Now I'm writing.

Well, it's not even 1:00 and I'm just about out of sad things to do. I'm at the beach, the sun is shining, the waves are big. I don't really feel like being sad anymore. I don't think I can pull off happy, but I can probably manage OK.

There's a song I used to listen to, a few years ago. It went like this.

"When I wake in the morning, I want to blow into pieces. I want more than just OK."

For a long time I though that if I wasn't exuberantly happy, life was being wasted. If I weren't bursting with joy all of the time, I needed to fix something. The end of my senior year was just plain fun. All of my friends were around, it never rained. I was inbetween AP classes and summer jobs so obligations were minimal. I went to prom and senior banquet and Graduation. Graduation parties and days at the beach and nice lunches on a whim. Late night movies, impromptu ice cream runs, shopping. Trips to the Adirondacks and Outer Banks. Every day was glorious; bright and entertaining and happy.

Right now, sitting in the lull between two happies, I am beginning to realize that OK is just that - it's OK. I know both ends of the spectrum. The halfway point between bursting with contentment and fighting grief is alright. The little, quiet things are good. Sitting on the patio early in the morning, a big cup of coffee and the sun drying my hair is good. The fast-paced, morning drive into the bright, busy city is good. Coming home and sitting down to dinner is good. Watching a movie at home with my family is good. Fires out back are good.

Slow is good. Quiet is good. Before I know it, life will be fast and loud again, probably faster and louder than I bargained for. Maybe this summer exists for a reason. Slow down, get my feet under me, then gear up again. Maybe this is the kind of change I need spend some time getting ready for.