It’s Saturday again, best day of the week except for Sunday. Cool, sunny, messy bed, everything the way we left it last night. In a word perfect. After an early breakfast Kim rode his bike to PickleBall, came back to get his truck, went to the nursery in NoLaw for bedding plants, now he’s home playing guitar.
In case you’re curious as to the whereabouts of our narrator while all this was going on, she’s been at her computer trying to figure out where sadness comes from. I mean, with life staying basically beautiful day after day, why sadz?
I saw a picture a friend posted today of a gorgeous ginger biddy hen on the porch of a weathered old house and the tears started. What’s up with that? Maybe partly the memories of a one-time farm-girl-farm-wife, turning maudlin old biddy hen herself, but I’m curious about what else tripped the melancholy since it happens fairly often lately.
There are days when the smallest trigger reduces me to ruins, and others when everything, no matter how heavy, leaves me cold. Should I seek counseling yet? Disclaimer: It might be a waste – I just might not do a thing they told me, out of stubbornness.
I could sit here all day on a truly perfect April Saturday with tears running down my cheeks and no real idea why they’re there. But being a sensible person at heart (is that an oxymoron, I wonder?) the thing to do … since it’s after 1pm … is probably … to get in the shower and clean up my act.
Because … a totally not-sad part of the day is still out there, guaranteed, and I know that she who snoozes … loozes. Crying itself can be a form of losing and it isn’t a good look for maudlin old biddies, at any rate.
Have a sweet weekend, boys and girls, and if the tears fall, don’t ask too many hard questions of them. Let them do their work, sit still in whatever quiet is available to you, enjoy the sunshine if it blesses you, it’s a pretty good world if we stay willing to connect with it. 
Photo Belongs to The Root Connection