All three of us- my Dad, me and Alfonse- admitted today we were experiencing some degree of depression. We just all kind of went though some collective chaos yesterday that left us with residual emotional hangovers. I don’t know about them but the memory of burying Cindy on New Years Eve twenty five years ago kept bursting in to my brain over last year’s last day. Among other things.
I decided we needed to get out of the house today and get moving- head over to the next town for lunch and shopping. Alfonse was feeling so blue he tried to back out but I insisted he come.
On the drive there I recalled the song “My Favorite Things” which is all about pulling yourself out of a funk by remembering things you love.
I’m a big lover of road games so initiated this one and we filled up my car with the aroma of cinnamon rolls and pine trees, our new mantle that I threw some belated Christmas decorations on this morning, musicals, reclining movie seats and root beer.
I reached back while driving and held my brother’s hand who squeezed back hard holding mine until I needed it again for the wheel.
We stopped at a small cafe for lunch, all of us already feeling better, more connected in our circle, ordering asparagus soup, meatloaf sandwiches and blt’s.
Our soups arrived- one for me, one for my Dad both emblazoned with a message. A harbinger of goodness, a signal from beyond, relayed just for our table as we noticed the same soup, delivered to the very next table just moments later with only a simple squiggle on top.
Signs of life all around us if only we say yes.
Happy New Year.