Melancholy

Lily was antsy this morning. She had missed her big walk yesterday and I could feel her agitation, perhaps I had it too. The skies were cloudy and I was definitely feeling melancholy. So we set out and walked. I ran into a young man I have seen a few times at the blues jams. He works nearby. We said hello, and I said you have an amazing face, like from another era. He said people have told me I look like James Dean. Exactly, I said. You could've stepped out of the cast of West Side Story. I wonder why that is? he asked. Maybe your perfect teeth and haircut, I said. He smiled and we walked a few blocks with Lily.

I continued on to Precious Blood Cemetery where I admired the expanse of snow on the frozen lake. Down by the reservoir I ran into another pal I know from walking in the neighborhood, and we chatted about the anxiety of depression and how it cycles throughout the year even when we think it won't and we always think it won't. Perhaps we ought to welcome it I said, invite it in; set a place for it at the table; depression at one end, joy at the other, because they both are part of life.

Afterward, my feet were freezing, but I wanted Lily to have her chance to run. We went to Turbesi Park's baseball field, and I closed the openings in the chain-link fence with the white plastic trash barrels, and Lily ran and ran full throttle as I knew she needed to do. She found the baseball we had lost last time and I threw it as far as I could. She chased it a few times and we lost it again. Then I was ready to go home. She wasn't. She found a stick and picked it up and ran and ran. Finally she was ready. The walk home felt quick and easy. My spirits were elevated a notch and I was grateful.