The Little Things

At the Drop of a Hat

The last time I cried, I thought it was in frustration. It was just last week. I was having a bad day at work (I work from home): I had messed up on a time card, they had given me more to do, and, finally, I yelled at one of our dogs for making a mess on the floor.

In truth, I was a mess.

I cried so hard and loud that my dad came out to see what was wrong.

It was only when I tried to explain to him what had happened that I realized that I wasn’t just crying because of everything that had happened that day.

Halloween was coming up. Our holiday. Mine, my dad’s, and my mom’s. And for the second year in a row, my mom wouldn’t be there with us to celebrate it.

And I cried harder.

I could tell that my dad wanted to cry, too, but he didn’t. One of our dogs, Luci tried to lick my tears away. She made me smile, but I could still feel tears running down my cheeks.

That’s when I knew that I couldn’t put off seeing a counselor anymore, if I were crying at the drop of a hat like this. To my surprise, the universe listened: the counselor I had called weeks ago finally called me back, and we set up an appointment for this week.

Sometimes, when you cry, the universe is there to dry your tears.

The Little Things

My life has not been all that decent lately. I have lost three grandparents and my mom over the span of a few years, my job has been causing me increasing amounts of stress, and my muse has been coming and going at will. It’s been enough to send me to counseling for depression.

Believe it or not, though, I still find more reasons to laugh than to cry nowadays. Even with my mom—my best friend—gone and my dad depressed, I find myself laughing at little things all the time.

The last time that I laughed was just today, in fact. Our Golden Doodle, Luci, was curled up on the couch looking sad. I do not know why, maybe she knew she was going to the vet to get her shots (she’s a lot smarter than she lets on) or maybe she just didn’t want to be awake.

Anyway, I decided to go cheer her up. I bent over to give her a hug, and she licked me. Then she uncurled and licked me again. Then she sat up and licked me again. Then she stood on her hind legs, put her front paws on my shoulders (digging her claws into my skin in the process), and licked me relentlessly.

I don’t know why, but I laughed. I laughed hard. The more I laughed, the more that Luci licked me. On and on this cycle went.

It only lasted about a minute, but it felt so good to laugh that I walked away feeling better than I think even our dog did.

It was just a little thing—a dog licking me like she hadn’t seen me in a month—but it meant the world to me. I don’t need a big joke or a feature-length movie to make me laugh still. I don’t even need a lot of people around me to make me happy (although it wouldn’t hurt). All I need are the little moments, the little gestures that you find in everyday life to get me to laugh again.

So, perhaps, there is a bit of brightness left in the darkness of my life after all. And, perhaps, there is still hope for me.

Author’s Note: This is for Paul’s The Last Time I Cried and the Last Time I Laughed Challenge, the second part of his multi-part challenge, which you can find the link to below.