The old man would have liked to keep his hand in the salt water longer but he was afraid of another sudden lurch by the fish and he stood up and braced himself and held his hand up against the sun. It was only a line burn that had cut his flesh. But it was in the working part of his hand. He knew he would need his hands before this was over and he did not like to be cut before it started.
"Now," he said, when his hand had dried, "I must eat the small tuna. I can reach him with the gaff and eat him here in comfort."
There are big hurts and little hurts. Hurts that stay with you forever, and hurts that disappear in a fly's heartbeat. (Okay, I don't know if flies have hearts, but, if they do, I'm sure those hearts beat pretty damn fast.) My point is that everyone experiences pain in their lives. It's inevitable.
I spent the day in Calumet. I went for a long walk with my wife this morning. Then I went back to my hotel room and worked on scripts and sketches for the radio variety show I performed in tonight. While I was working on those scripts, a musician friend messaged me, asking if she could read one of my poems during her set at Hiawatha Music Festival in Marquette, Michigan. (Of course, I said "yes." It was an honor to be asked.) I spent the afternoon in rehearsals (and got a whole bunch of texts from friends attending Hiawatha who heard my poem), and then we had two shows this evening.
When I got back to my hotel room after the performances, I finished binging The Big Bang Theory. Saw Sheldon and Amy win the Nobel Prize. Listened to Sheldon honor his friends in his acceptance speech. Cried like a baby. Now, I'm sitting in the dark, typing this blog post and feeling slightly . . . bereft. Because there are no more episodes to watch, and I'm going to miss this group of sitcom friends. This is one of those little hurts that I was talking about in the first paragraph.
I know that I'm not the easiest person to be around sometimes. I'm certainly not the easiest blogger to read, either. For the past couple weeks, all I've been writing about is my current blue funk. My therapist called it a situational depression. When I'm like this, I know that I obsess and don't sleep well and bring people down. I apologize for that. This is one of those big hurts that I was talking about. It has been hanging on for quite some time, and it's not showing any signs of moving on.
But I'm am blessed with a huge tribe of friends and loved ones who put up with all of my big and little hurts. I do this radio variety show with a group of people who have become family to me. They have seen me through the deaths of my mother, father, and sister. In fact, I performed in a show two days after my dad died. I planned my dad's funeral in the morning and headed to Calumet in the afternoon for rehearsals. When I walked into the theater that day, I was greeted with hugs and support. They dedicated the two shows that weekend to my father.
Being around these radio show friends this weekend was kind of tonic for me. It made me forget to be sad for a little while. Reminded me that I am loved.
That is Saint Marty's blessing for tonight.
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