Dancing, Crying, and Starting Over
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It is an ordinary, gloomy winter day. Nature stands still, except for the big, fluffy snowflakes falling. It feels like I am in a snow globe. It is quiet. I took a double dose of vitamin D today—those jelly gummies with saffron in them for extra sunshine. I am listening to Afrobeats hits to trick my mind into thinking it is summer. And it works, because for a few minutes, I am dancing in my kitchen to Nigerian beats before going back to my work desk.
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I am reading When Women Were Birds. Beautiful words in a beautiful book with uneven pages like in the olden days. It feels good under the tip of my fingers. 'When I once asked her what she had learned from planting trees, she said, "Patience."' It made me sad for a moment—how disconnected from nature we are, how most of us know nothing about growing our own food. We've never eaten anything right off the stem, never tasted something grown with care by our own hands. We've never plunged our hands deep into the heart of the Earth.
I lit a lilac candle. It reminds me of my grandmother's garden. The smell is comforting. It cradles me. The memory of spring dissipates quickly when I look outside at the February winter landscape. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting the lilac scent fill me. I wish I could stay a little longer in my inner world, in my beautiful night garden, with my grandmother.
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I cried uncontrollably all day. When I went grocery shopping, my eyes were red, and I was holding back my tears while browsing the frozen section. Becoming an adult is realizing that it is not shameful if someone else witnesses your pain. I was probably the third person in this grocery store today about to turn into a puddle of tears in the canned goods aisle. Pain is universal.
I am listening to Jean-Michel Blais to console myself. I feel like I am dying inside, and his album Aubades is a powerful and joyous ode to life. Blais doesn’t know it, but he is performing CPR on my broken heart with each piano note, trying to revive my will to live. It works. His music is enchanting, uplifting. Who could resist? Without realizing it, I am pulling myself back together, brushing off the dust. Okay, I am ready. Let’s try again.
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