The Sad Girl in the Snow Globe

Altoona was a snow globe today. Upon watching any particular snowflake, it seemed destined to never touch the ground but like butterflies fluttered on whatever current of wind was available, unwilling to settle in any particular spot. It was gorgeous, cold, and a promise of more to come (this weekend!). I live for the weekends.

The flurries continued throughout the day and during my walk to the Green Bean Coffee House. Instead of hiking today, I decided to relax at the coffee house, read, and sign up to read a personal essay at their open mic. It was the one-year anniversary of them having open-mics and I had only read there once before (poetry). Months ago.

Today, I decided to read a personal essay about my sister. The one-year anniversary of her death is approaching. On the surface, I know that it appears that Sarah is doing well considering having lost a sibling. Mandy was about ten years my senior and we lived completely different lives. Most people know that we weren't the closest; not due to any spat or indifference, but because our lifestyles, values, and interests never intertwined. No matter how hard I tried to get closer to her, she always preferred solitude and staying home. She was the wallflower. She was always the first to leave. She was always the one who didn't want to join in, no matter how big or small the gathering. I respected that. I understood that and still do. Thus, our closest moments (besides the seven years we lived under the same roof) were when I sat next to her for several months at her death bed. She passed away from colon cancer that metastasized in her liver. When she was finally diagnosed, she was already at stage 4. And to be blunt, she was only willing to fight for so long and decided to end treatment.

Before the reading, I read the essay aloud to myself in my living room. I felt fine reading it. It was an essay that intertwined the impending anniversary of her death with my futile attempt to see and photograph last month's Christmas comet. You can read it here. It was my turn at the mic after a mother/daughter duo singing amazing songs together. I was the second "act". I read through the essay, no problem. Until the very end. In front of dozens of strangers, I choked up. I cried. Who knows how long it took me to blubber through the last few, sad sentences.

I wasn't embarrassed. There's no shame in grieving. I am disappointed, though, that I couldn't execute the essay without getting emotional. After reading, I blurted out a quick thank you and made a bee-line to the exit. I had never taken off my coat. I was just some sad stranger zipping out of a warm, cozy coffee house. I walked home in the cold and dark, crying, cursing the uneven Altoona sidewalks, trying not to slip on ice.

On a lighter note, Mus (my new pet mouse) is doing fine. And so am I. I am so grateful for the things, people, and opportunities I have in my life. I am grateful that when I got home today after the reading, I took care of myself. A hot shower in the dark, a heating pad, lots of water, a warm blanket, cuddles from dogs, and a good book.

Take care of yourself. Be kind.