Happy Sad.

Do you have fond memories? Or at least are you fond of the memories that you have?

By the time I was leaving my desk and getting ready to walk the thirty minutes back to where I left the car I became acutely aware of the fact that I was feeling sad. I toyed around with different adjectives to hang the feeling from, low, flat, subdued, but no, I was feeling sad. Which was strange, to me at least, as there was seemingly no reason for me to feel this way. Stranger still was the fact that I was enjoying feeling sad. It felt correct, I felt no friction. I slowed my walking down to the pace of a funeral march, I let myself hunch over, a fraction more than I usually might. I welcomed the rain, the ache in my feet, the feeling of sadness.

I tried to explain myself when I got home but it wasn’t quite landing. What do you mean you’re happy to be feeling sad? I’m not sure, was all I could say, but just trust that I’m ok.

The feeling isn’t there today, in fact, I’m not sure what I feel today. And so perhaps that’s what made me happy to be sad, it was the knowing how I felt, without question or doubt. A feeling observed and accepted for what it was.

Watching the dog twitch in his sleep, restless in peace. I hope he knows how much I love him.