Seattle, WA
Poet, blogger, lawyer, educator, sista, sister, aunt, daughter, mentor, friend, dog owner, lover of music and all things gluten free... Writing about all of this and more.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Things Lost

When I was 11, I liked to jump in the deepest, muddiest rain puddles I could find. At my Gram's house, the best puddles always turned out to be near the big pear tree at the end of her alleyway. I would plunge in. I intentionally muddied the hems of my pants and made sure that my socks got good and soaked--wet enough to make my mom crazy and get me in trouble once I came back inside.

I miss that.

And I miss riding my bike dangerously fast down Graham street. I miss laughing at things that, in retrospect, really weren't that funny. I miss fantasy--imagining worlds and the future.

When I was 18, I knew that life was a gilded path laid out for me. I would stay up with friends until 2am in the halls of Uj (my college dorm), talking about nothing and politics and love and friends from back home and plans for spring break; listening to music; planning our next campus takeover (shouts out to Blaction!); imagining what life would be like as an adult. It didn't matter if I got two hours of sleep. It didn't matter if I ate pizza for breakfast and Starbucks for lunch.

I miss that, too.

I miss carefree. The ability to just live every day and not get overly consumed by anxiety about money, bills, a loved one's illness, my job, the state of my relationship with my significant other, etc.

It hasn't in all senses been an exchange of careefree or happy for something negative like stress or sadness. Carefree has also been replaced in some instances with substance, pragmatism, responsibility, perspective, and wisdom. These are gifts and tools that I know serve me well, and will continue to do so as they expand. But... sometimes I long to just get my socks muddy. Sometimes I just want to laugh at nothing.

Where does "happy" go when you experience the heaviness of life? You can still have joy, contentment, satisfaction, gratitude, and still feel like "happy" in the eleven-year-old, muddy-socks sense of the word, has escaped you.

Isn't there still room for "happy"?

I may have lost my happy. Or, maybe I just need to look for it in different places?

What makes you happy? In the most lighthearted, innocent, even fleeting sense of the word? How do you preserve that in your life?

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