A Long Walk & A Good Cry!

My son, age 5, knows which songs are sad.

“This song makes me feel emotions,” he says during Trolls World Tour, particularly during the Kelly Clarkson country song. The movie, his special pick, is in honor of preschool graduation.

He shares so much during a movie viewing and it reminds me of watching a film with my grandmother - Mommom Ethel - his commentary about what’s taking place, and how it makes him feel, in real time.

I saw the film The Sixth Sense, when it premiered in the theater, seated between Mommom and Aunt Sherrie (the two of them, of blessed memory). You can imagine the chatter that took place during this layered psychological thriller, and though I do not recall enjoying this experience at the time, the memory of it - twenty years later - fills me with the sweetest of belly-laugh’s-joy. (I do hope patrons seated near us were offered refunds.)

How will all of this look in twenty years?

In real time, last Friday, I wept. I bawled over my son’s preschool zoom graduation. In my pajamas.

Those of us who’ve been touched by the melancholy know what a relief it is, a good cry.

And there have been many occasions to cry, and much to cry about over these past several months, but I haven’t cried much. I’ve been too busy or too tired.

Then something incredible happened: Someone showed up at our door to drop off Shabbat dinner for our family. There was a time when I would have been self conscious or too proud to accept such a gift.

Now is not that time!

Now is the time for saying thank you and asking if the containers should be returned or recycled.

Time has taught me that.

Knowing that dinner was prepared, I took a walk. A long walk to the beach while Dan hung back with the kids.

When I got there, I saw these colorful glass bottles swaying - suspended in the air - like some desert mirage. I got closer and heard the sounds of their soft clanking, this large scale wind-chime sculpture.

When I returned two days later it was gone.

I told my boy that the sad songs let us feel a way that we need to feel.

There’s consolation in that. In sad songs, long walks, a nourishing meal, even in ephemeral art.

And Thank God.

Prayer + Action: Root & Rebound