Love, Dummy

Had a good cry with a perfect stranger the other day.  I suppose we're on our way to becoming friends now but the cry was between two women who didn't know diddly about the other woman.  Or maybe we did?  How else does that explain the cry?  I won't go into the reasons for the cry, but we talked for a good thirty minutes about our backgrounds and she, with strength and poise, mentioned something that she's been facing for quite some time, and I immediately put myself in her shoes and as she shrugged and said, "But there's not much I can do but accept it,"  tears welled up and I took a step forward to hug her.  We embraced, me for a minute to pull in my grace, her because, well, because I pretty much made her hug me.  When I stepped back, I saw the tears run down her face.  We both kind of nodded, locked eyes, our souls met and shook hands, and we smiled.

I drove home yesterday and looked up.  John Mellencamp's "This Time (I Really Think I'm in Love)" was blasting on the radio (because, for some reason, I love singing along to that song) and I noticed the rays of sunlight streaming through the clouds, outlined in pink, soft and whispy, like cotton candy.  It was pretty.  Scratch that.  It was breathtaking.

Just after the song ended, Springsteen's Across the Border began, and falling into the melodic hypnosis of the words and music caused my heart to sway and wait for the next melody, sway and wait for the next line, sway and wait, sway and wait... beautiful.

After getting home, practicing writing with Tony and reading with Paige, I put on Bugs Bunny and friends, and began making dinner.  As I cut and cooked, I heard their laughter, Bugs' one-liners and despite wanting to get dinner on the table at a reasonable hour, I was pulled in between them on the couch; shortly after, I was laughing along with them, repeating the funny lines and waiting for the next cartoon to start.  We ended up turning the TV toward the kitchen so we could watch and cook at the same time.  Classic

Once dinner was on the table, we turned the tv off and talked, talked, talked about everything under the sun: classmates, family, school, reading, favorite parts of the day (Bugs won for all three of us).
        Paige said, "You know, I had a terrible day today but now it's better." 
(She did too, crabby and dismissive, rude and disrespectful that morning before getting on the bus; and then when she got home, it started all over again with a dirty look at me as she descended the bus stairs). 
         I leaned into her, gave her a kiss on the forehead and said, "You know what the secret is to making a bad day better?" 
         She pulled back and said, "No. What?" 
         I whispered, "Love, Dummy." 
         I had taken the reins again after the every other weekend anger towards me, and now, we're solid.  (Only took me two days this time; I'm getting better).

I am pretty out of sorts these days; been feeling sorry for myself; quite lonely; quite cynical; and very much confused about the slap of life's right hand.  Yet, after a quick prayer for help, the heaviness lifted and I was able to see. 

There is beauty. 
There is tenderness. 
There is laughter. 
There is the human condition that marks our souls. 
There is the heavenly condition that gives out hope and grace at a bargain price.

The holidays this year are going to be tough, indeed.  Yet, every day is tough.  It's a struggle to live with the sting of the slap with poise and strength.

A stranger taught me that, but maybe I should've just locked eyes with myself or a member of my family...
they've got the cherry red cheek to prove that the slap still smarts.  Yet they, like me, know how uplifting the thought of watching Bugs Bunny with the kids or even having pork chops for dinner can be.  And if that gets us through another long day, well, that's what does it. 

Tonight, Bugs Bunny for entertainment, pork chops for dinner and love for the seconds in between...