Everybody Hurts Sometime | Flash Post 371

Button, it happened again. By the way, our headline is the title of a song by R.E.M. I love very much.

What happened again?

I had my eyes fill up with tears. And don’t give me that all-knowing smirk that says “what’s new”?

Is this a family trait? Do you also shed tears when happy? What about crocodile tears?

I remember my mother getting emotional over small things. Even my sister does!

And you do it as well. And they are not crocodile tears, I’m very sure.

I feel this has become more pronounced after my depression when I would watch from the sidelines if a touchy situation cropped up but never actually shed tears.

And now?

I weep often. My eyes well up with tears at the thought of my father who passed away at the young age of 63 and curse myself for not being the ideal daughter I would have liked to be. I weep for the gruesome injustices inflicted on young children every now and then and towards women of all ages. I weep when animals are butchered mercilessly for no fault of theirs and for the way we treat other living species. I also shed tears remembering all the pets we rescued and who are no longer with us. I get teary when I see my deceased mother’s kind and weathered face peering down at me first thing in the morning. I also shed a tear remembering all the tough times your Dost and I went through to build the wonderful relationship we now share.

That list makes me wonder if you get any time to smile!

I do that often too. The fact is I smile much more than I ever have. When I play a prank on one of the family members by sending them a funny text to cheer them up at work, I split up cackling to myself. I laugh when our Labrador turns over on his back and expects me to give him a massage every single morning. By the way, Messi is one hell of an entertainer and gives me plenty reasons to smile. For instance, when he wants his back scratched, he comes and plonks himself close, so I can pamper him as well as tickle him under his jaw. Once in a while, he races at breakneck speed all over the house and does the perfect parkour against the living room  sofas. I smile when I hear the strains of the flute being played by my flute man though I haven’t heard him in a while. I laugh when my sister and I reminisce about our days together in Kolkata and the fun times we had. I smile chasing two gorgeous bumble bees miming in our terrace garden every morning. Their wings are a mix of luminous blue and green and I smile every time they chase me away before I can catch them on my phone camera. I am thrilled when brahmakamals, in all their glory, bloom in our garden every year. I smile every time I see an old and fading photograph of my kids and fondly remember the days gone by.

The list of the number of times you laugh is much longer than the list of all the soppy moments.

I continue to feel that I weep too much, sometimes for no apparent reason, an act often frowned upon by my family members.

I don’t think you’re being fair to yourself because I see a far happier, fun-loving and bubbly woman than the woman I met over a decade back when we decided to start writing this diary together.