Sludge

Yesterday morning, I woke up in sludge, as if someone had poured sludge into my body and filled up my skin (I looked up "sludge" to verify -- sludge, (n) thick, soft, wet mud or a similar viscous mixture -- yes, that was it), and all I could do was drag myself from place to place. It's always striking, and seems to exacerbate the mood, to feel this way in bright glaring sun -- that was the morning. Ben, who seemed to bounce around with a springy step, organized us all onto bikes and headed up a ride. I slothed the pedals around and around, tugging Eden in the trailer behind me. Even when Eden took my hand at the park, chattering away about the "riverbed" and leading me to the bushes, I couldn't shake it. Even when Ben made me climb to the top of the jungle gym and let me lean against him with his hands on my head, the sludge stayed. Even when I watched Silas try to pop wheelies on every dip in the sidewalk and veer off into the grass and dirt along the street, bumping and jostling as he "off roaded" -- nothing. I couldn't get out. There are days like this. And this day draaaaaaaaaged on.

In the middle of the day, our old friend came by without his wife, so I slipped out to clear my head. I had a list of errands to run, but instead drove to the park where I sat in the grass for a couple of hours talking with people and petting Sissy La La (officially my favorite little fluffy dog name ever). But I was still muddled when I climbed into the car. I thought a little clothes shopping might help (because despite myself, I have to admit it often does) and for the first time in months, I tried on a bunch of clothes. But then I dumped them all and left only to end up in the grocery store buying proper flour and boysenberries...

It wasn't really until the evening, when Silas, Ben, Eden and I were sitting in the living room, that the grey film over the day began to lift. Ben was playing with garage band and recorded Silas singing about stingrays in the sand in which sweet Si riffed a little and adjusted his lyrics to fit the rhythm as he went (it's my favorite song now). Since Eden refused to sing, Ben and I recorded an improvised song to inspire her. I am not a singer nor do I have a very melodic voice, but I can sing on key and keep time. At least I thought I could. I was finally laughing til tears streamed down my face as I listened to our recording, and the more we listened, the harder we laughed. And somehow that laughter was strong than the sludge and, finally, the spell broke.