I think one of the most distressing questions I have heard over my whole life is, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” or its sister statement, “do what makes you happy.” You see I find “happy” to be a very wild emotion to hold onto, let alone crawl inside and live there, for more of my adulthood then I would like to admit my companion emotion has been the gray muddled emotion that seems best captured by the word ‘melancholy’.
Melancholy is not quite sad, but there is a discomfort at the current conditions. Melancholy is anxious, sort of, it allows worry and doubt to dance along the daily thoughts. Melancholy sometimes is inexplicable tired and makes the tasks of life mundane and appear to drag on. I have always been ashamed of my melancholy bend, my propensity to see the world as glass with the dredges left in the bottom, especially when I fell in love with The One that sees the world as a jewel colored ocean begging to have you jump in and taste and see all that is wonderful and good.
Being next to her is a spark in the inky night and I began to wonder if being next to me was a bit like sitting next to pile of wet wood that should be your campfire. In some of my darker moments I wonder if I need to just snap out of it, find a way to be bright and warm before I smother the good that she is, in her brightest moments she warms me enough to believe that a fire is starting in the wet kindling of my being.
It is cliché to compare us to the great opposites attract tropes–we are not close to Paula and a cartoon cat. We make good partners. We are good friends. Our natural bends twirl around each other as she swings toward the light and I sway to the shadow.
When I shared my thoughts with her on my melancholy she smiled with her knowing grin–the one that comes with the empathy eyebrows and told me, “I have melancholy too. Whenever I see a sunrise or beauty in the grey–I still feel a little sad in those moments, because I know for every place that I saw beauty, I still have missed so much.”