Enga mellom fjella

Letting go of the sadness

ME:

Not functional. Weather may be a factor, but having a temp of 97.4 isn’t good either. The day awoke grey and frosted. Jumbo looked like a sugar-coated jelly donut. When I went out for bread, there were remains of icy snow on the grass in the shadows.

The thoughts for writing keep coming, to the point of making me wonder whether this is a good thing. And my sadness… I need to shed this sadness. My sense of loss gets triggered by common day items I once had and have no longer. Simple things like cars (seeing the ones I used to have). Was I always like this? Always in mourning? As a child I had so little. So little to lose. Now I have little left except a book from childhood, my passport from when I was 22. If I could just “let go” …hard to grab onto the new when holding onto the past. I’m an idealist by nature, a perfectionist by nurture. I had to let go of the perfect and learn to live. Must the idealism go too? Or is that my problem… it has gone and I’m in mourning for its loss. Once I was innocent (more like naïve, eyes-shut, withdrawn) …and then I wasn’t. Life went on. But this disembodied sadness I need to shed.

***a drawing of a clam, a scallop, peering back***

It brightened up. I thought, sun! I look outside… snow.

***a drawing of an older tree, an alder?***

I’m cold here in the bakery. I look at the price, $2.75, for a single cream puff. I consider the cost of eating, not eating. They look luscious; they are orange-cream filled; I want one. But I resist my wants.

Ginny stopped by. We chatted. Spoke about the Spanish group, new people, who’s been missing. Even on a down day I see the people of my village. This should cheer me up. When I rise from my depths, it will. Sun just peaked out.

         Edited from my Journal, pages 2314-15

Peace, Kåre Enga Too-Many-Blogs



Montana: 47º sunny degrees in Missoula at 6 p.m. ...more snow in forecast.

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