Downer

If you saw me yesterday, you may have noticed my morose, hollow, green-eyed gaze.


I spent the day sad and jealous and down.


I found myself pining for more time with my husband, and envious of those who have it. I felt a longing for silly, material objects. I was painfully jealous of those who could say decide at noon they wanted something shiny and new, and that very night, go buy it. I longed for a body that would, on command, look and feel like a marathon runner's. I was resentful of those who were smarter, more crafty and talented than me. I felt guilt for my shortcomings. I felt regret over mistakes I had made. I yearned to be closer to my family and friends.



Ryan walked in the house and stood in the doorway shocked for a long moment, wondering why I was curled up on the couch crying at the latest episode of Parenthood, wearing pajamas at 6:30 p.m. A rare sight.



He sat next to me and asked me to share with him my worries. I paused and then blubbered out every feeling that had been clouding my normally happy spirit.



As his concerned eyes darted back and forth between mine, I know he felt guilty for having such a demanding and weird work schedule and I am sure he also thought I was being a bit dramatic, negative and attention starved. If so, he wasn't far off. I was all of those things. But I couldn't help it. Everybody has "off" days. And this one was mine and I was going to soak it up. I had resigned myself to a night on the couch, a dismal expression on my face and maybe some chips and wine. Done.



But that wasn't good enough for Ryan. He listened and with his rough, man hands, and carefully brushed my bangs to the side of my face. He corrected me on some things and re-assured me on others. And some things he just nodded and agreed with.



And then he said those six magical words..."C'mon, let's go for a walk."



Before I knew what was happening, my eyes perked up and my frown became a very small, indifferent, cautious smile. We both knew that he had offered exactly what I needed, but I wasn't convinced and I wasn't giving up my night on the couch that easily. He persisted and helped pry my legs from the fetal position and led me to the closet where he handed me my workout pants and shoes. Moving at a toddler's pace, I glumly shed the pajama pants and furry socks in favor of my normal, after-work "uniform".



And we walked. First, we were quiet, but soon I began to feel awakened. And before we knew it, I was yammering on about his birthday, Christmas, our anniversary, and Halloween. We talked about how long we had been together (four years on the 31st!) and he hinted at surprises that he had in store for me.



We ended up at the park, which looked so quiet and statuesque, dimly lit by a crescent moon.

We sat on the bleachers and cheered for a non-existent baseball game.

We bet whether or not Ryan could jump and touch the basketball rim. He can. And he did.

We hit the swings and Ryan pushed me so high. I had forgotten how your stomach can drop on the swing. After I squealed, I got nervous, and he caught me.

I slid down the slide and we tested the zip line.

Ryan showed me how he can jump on picnic tables.


We giggled at the lovers making out on the bench who thought they were invisible, but whose figures were really perfectly silhouetted against the moonlight.

And I did my first cartwheel in perhaps fifteen years.



Then we got slurpees. And as I swallowed my first sip of the coca-cola/cherry concoction, I swallowed a bit of my pride along with it, admitting to Ryan that I had been wallowing in self-pity all along and that really our life is grand just because we are breathing. I thanked him for being all the medicine I needed.



We walked home and although the kitchen was a mess, our cat had thrown up and we had no clean clothes to wear the next day, I had no choice but to marvel at our fortune.



I suppose I just needed a good reminder.