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Melancholy revisits me from time to time… 

She used to be my twin sister always at my side. Now she is an old friend lingering for a bit, then leaving. She is part of life, part of my joy of life. Old, wiser, generous, not clinging anymore… quietly vanishing once I say hello to her…  Ancient personal and ancestral sadness and loss mingle with the increasing collective catastrophes of violent inequalities and injustices, of climate change and wars, the list is endless...  

 

How could I avert my eyes, hold my ears, close my heart? Two days ago, I sneak into Raxakoul Coffee and Cheese Market in Kensington just a minute after 6 pm to quickly pick up some crackers and anchovies. Before me at the cash register a skinny middle-aged woman suddenly turns to swoop back to the frozen section to get more ice cream, then she pays slowly writing a check, muttering. The young cashier cannot find the check number which he needs to enter, neither does the woman know, so I step in to help, pointing to # 1001. Her first check, for $101.27. She has just been at the bank. Her three big canvas bags are packed orderly, filled with groceries. Asking for a paper bag, the cashier finds a cardboard box for her. She raves about the gelato, and presses one of the small cups into my hand, “Here”. Surprised I laugh: “Oh no, you keep it.”  I am enjoying our trio lingering: the kind young man trying to patiently ring up his last customers, me, and the middle-aged woman obviously from a rough life. Her skin, teeth, hair and eyes give her away, but she moves dignified. Her spirit is generous and grateful, she smiles at me, hints that she has to get used to how life functions out here. Finally leaving with her big load of goods, she thanks the helpful young cashier, and greets me as her neighbor, her light blue eyes shining intensely, sweetly... Quietly I marvel that the young man has no attitude, and she appreciates it. 

 

My gaze following her, I can’t help but feel charmed by her elation, innocence, and vulnerability infused with a curious mixture of competence and wondrous surrender, the quality of a sigh…. And then somehow, as I am driving home, I am suddenly so aware that this could be me. I feel pierced. Any little thing in my life could have gone askew, and this would be me. Or perhaps it is me. Next morning, I wake up to her unique presence in my heart, making me smile. Wherever she comes from, she is real, alive, present, different. She is memorable. Warm well-wishes for her and gratitude are flooding me. And sister Melancholia is with me too, sweetly, kindly, patiently, sighing…. 

 

I am that and that, too…


Where did i meet this tree being?

Comments

Alex K said…
There is something so exposed, so tender about this that it is heartbreaking (heartpiercing) the kindness, generosity and yes, even pleasure in the midst of hardship, struggle. pain. It flows between the three.
October 9, 2022 at 6:48 AM
Karina said…
Yeah, it always interests me how some else would have seen this short exchange very differently, maybe not noticed anything at all, been absent, bored, impatient, or avoided entering below the surface of these "unspectacular" few minutes. Thank goodness i was awake enough to feel, see, participate... Perhaps the biggest reason why we are in life is to be present for each other.....
October 9, 2022 at 12:17 PM
nicole gervacio said…
I was just going to say - as you name in your comment that some may see this short exchange as possibly "unspectacular" few minutes - that I love the moments when you share stories of seemly small or fleeting moments with expansiveness, nuance, and layers...how often do people spend time with their day to notice the layers of an experience. how much do people spend with their memories, listening, reflecting with possibilities & curiosities?

I've said to you so many times that I learn and get to know people, like Bob, very intimately through your stories so much that I feel like I know them and their energy. I feel that same way as you describe the presence of melancholy.
October 11, 2022 at 9:57 AM
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