A good day

If two good deeds makes a good day, then today counts.  But my stomach has been knotted all evening with the vague heavy kind of grief which slugs a body into a chair and pins it down.  I tried to slide my mood back onto happy.  The lever stuck.

I finished a book that I’d been reading though I had to skip a few chapters.  I scrolled through email long enough to see that most of it could just be deleted.  Those which sought a response can wait.  I’ve run out of words to get around the sticking keys; and the clanging sound which my bracelets make against the table annoys me tonight.

I noticed recently that the internal litany of my failures has finally subsided but in tense moments, I can still render a perfect recitation of the many ways in which I’ve disappointed people.   Broken promises, broken dreams, broken glass in shards under feet.  I shake off the memories.  It’s a good day, I tell myself.  I walk around the house muttering this over and over.

Then  I remember something:

Once I stepped into a room straightening my dress in front of a man waiting to take me to a party.  From his place in my little boudoir chair he asked, Is that what you’re wearing?

I froze.  Well, it’s what I thought I would wear, I admitted.

Do you have anything else in your closet, he said.  I looked into the depths and replied, yes, but it all pretty much looks like this.

I guess it will be all right, he sighed.

I’m still reeling, years later.  But I’ve reached the point at which I’m no longer certain which stunned me more: his callousness or my own willingness to accept it.

When I moved to California, I downsized from twenty feet of hanging clothes to twenty-one inches.  Even ten pounds overweight, I feel beautiful in every last article hanging in that tiny space.

It’s the fourth day of the fifty-fourth month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.

2 thoughts on “A good day

  1. Anne Orso

    Thanks once again for making yourself vulnerable and being so honest with we the readers of your blog. I know for myself, I can relate to this on occasion. It’s a beautiful, poignant reflection.


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