Obviously, I’m a bum. I’ve had no energy, time, or inspiration to write in over a month. I’m in that writer’s funk, that fog, where it seems that nothing I could write would be even remotely funny, witty, inspirational, educational, or worthwhile. Then I remembered that really…I write for me. So, here’s a quick story that came to my mind that made me laugh months ago.
I cherish my subscription to The Sun Magazine, which is perfectly and succinctly described on its website as: “Personal. Provocative. Political. Ad-Free.” One of my favorite sections called Readers Write “asks readers to address subject on which they’re the only authorities.”. The monthly topics provided are “intentionally broad in order to give room for express.” Recent topics include “Change of Heart”, “Guns”, and “The Bedroom”.
On our way to IKEA (my Happiest Place on the Earth), I was content being engrossed in the Readers Write section, lapping the words into my mind like a kitten to milk. Jason asked that I read something aloud to him and so I began to read each of the paragraph long submissions about the topic “Falling”. Some wrote about how a literal fall in their life mirrored an emotional fall from grace, or a slip on the path along their life’s journey. Some wrote about falling out of favor, out of love, or in love. Many had an air of sadness surrounding them, especially the few that described the writer’s witnessing how their parents’ bodies were literally falling apart, breaking, slipping away.
After each story, Jason grew increasingly disturbed, emitting a quiet heaving breath, which I attributed to his sensitive nature reacting to the depressing endings. Finally, after finishing two pages of stories, (and one in particular about a tourist in Italy witnessing a bride falling down a flight on stone stairs that led to the sea), he blurted out with exasperation: “Arrgggh, these people are so clumsy!” I turned and started at him with confusion. Then I laughed at the realization that I hadn’t mentioned to him that each story followed the theme of “falling”. He had no clue; I’m sure feeling like he was trapped in some kind of story-telling Twilight Zone that attracted clumsy writers. When I explained this to him, he breathed a sigh of relief and then requested “Go on…” It tickled me to witness his naivety and I chuckled most of the way to IKEA. I adore my husband.
Sooooo, I guess you had to be there.