sent flying + Star Wars

The way I see it, there are two kinds of bad days.

There’s the Murphy’s Law kind of bad day, the ones when every little thing goes wrong. The ones when it feels like the world and everything in it exist to pick pick pick at you and scratch scratch scratch at the surface of your patience, your sanity, your single layer of very thin glue that is holding everything else together until it all gives way. Then after it comes crashing down and you’ve completely lost your mind, every single annoyance or inconvenience, no matter how minor, feels like a miniature explosion in your head, setting fire to any shred of stability that might be hiding in the corners, hanging on for dear life.

What? You’ve don’t have days like that? Oh.

Me either.

So, moving on...

Then there’s the other kind of bad day -- the Punch in the Gut kind of bad day. These are the ones that put the others in perspective. These are the ones that act as an auto-adjust on the lens of your heart, bringing into focus the things that matter - really matter - with a single motion. And while it’s true they have a way of making inconveniences disappear and annoyances fade into the background, they also leave you reeling, empty of air, clinging for dear life to that bit of peace found on the invisible line between anger and despair.

If one were to film a 15-second short illustrating the Punch in the Gut kind of bad day, I imagine it would go something like this:

Person One sits on a blanket in a meadow on a nice day.

Maybe it’s not the most sunshiny day.

Maybe Person One is sharing his or her blanket with loud children, piles of dirty laundry and the occasional creepy crawly.

But there they are.

Blanket.

Meadow.

Fresh air.

Perhaps rather comfortable.

Maybe even content.

[Cue pan out to reveal globe on which Person One is perched like a speck of dust on a ferris wheel. A large hand looms overhead, perfectly poised to knock the crap out of said globe.]

Hand hits globe.

Globe spins.

Person One, her blanket, and everyone on it go flying.

Expletives and sobs can be heard fading in the distance.

THE END.

[Cue credits.]

Too dramatic? I don’t know. Maybe.

Here’s what I do know.

Sometimes a bad day can feel like the end of the world when really, if I could zoom out far enough to see, it's just the beginning of a new one.

Furthermore, whatever kind of bad day I’m having, I want to have it with these people.

I mean, really. What kind of bombs or punches or whatever-the-heck else can mask the love in these faces? I’ll tell you. None. Nada. Zilcho. Not even a chance.

You know what else bombs and punches and whatever-the-heck else can’t do? They can’t drown out the sound of the world’s best Star Wars narration, that’s what.

*Warning: spoiler alert!

Important notes:
1. I feel this video captures the essence of E's post-nap bangs, which are, in a word, phenomenal.
2. The Hub had been telling her the story of Star Wars little by little each night at bedtime for weeks. Verbally. Like folklore. I love that about him/her/them.
3. She is mildly preoccupied with death and dying lately. I find the innocence of her views on the matter to be beautifully simple and unexpectedly comforting. Much like I find her post-nap hair.