Life lately has been emotional. Sometimes I feel totally fine, and sometimes (especially when it’s quiet) my thoughts race ahead of me like a crazy train about to fly off the tracks. Sometimes people will ask (like ordinary people do) “how are you?” and my customary answer of “good!” now feels like a bit of a lie. Sometimes I think about saying “not good” but because it’ll just be the clerk in the grocery checkout line asking, I feel I should spare her the details. Lately, I’ve settled on “okay” for an answer. At least it’s a little bit closer to the truth. Because the truth is sometimes we’ll have pizza for dinner—perfectly blistered, thin-crust pizza—and we’ll watch a movie on the ridiculous bean bag Alan bought that swallows up the living room, and things will feel perfect. Sometimes, in the very early mornings when our dreams still feel real, we forget and it’s fine. But then sometimes, I can’t seem to get the train back on the tracks.
This weekend, Alan said, “It’s a wild ride, and I just have to hang on.” So I rolled down the car windows so we could feel the wind in our hair. Sometimes that helps.