Laughing

Last night, I finally laughed. A lot. It was Walter’s birthday and a bunch of us sat around the dinner table and told the kind of stories that are long in nature, but come out in sound bites.

Everyone knows the history; a few words are enough to send everyone into hysterics. Sure, the wine helped.

It felt good to unwind a little. I’ve felt so tight over the last two weeks. Too much is at stake not to listen carefully, to be sure I understand what I can. It’s been exhausting.

Looking in the mirror, I saw new lines and heavier bags under my eyes. Enough.

Larger global issues loom large right now and there is nothing I can do about it. No, I have done what I can- I vote, write my representatives, contribute to campaigns. Now I have to sit with the anxiety, the wait.

They came to some kind of agreement last night about the bailout package. Or so they say… one has to raise an eyebrow if they are trying to ease the early morning Asian markets.

Nothing to be done. All we can do is wait and see. Or riot in the streets but that time in our history seems to have past. We wait anxiously, chewing down another celexa, drugging ourselves into a false sense of calm.

I need to remember to gather with friends and hold them close. Tell stories and be present in the moment because the moment is rich with joy. While there is fear and uncertainty with every clock tick, it competes- if I let it- with the life I have planted and grown, tended to carefully for so many years. It is big table, good food and playful history bantered about.

It is my oldest son leaning his head against my shoulder asking when cake will be served.

Today I’m going to try letting go for a while. It’s not my nature but at 45 I can’t afford any more lines grooved into my skin. Fold laundry, take the recycling out to the curb, have dinner with a different group of friends. Yes, Morgan, take the dog for a walk even though it’s raining.

Breathe.

And laugh.