Mother's Day, and Thoughts on Happiness
I want to burble on a bit about this past Mother's Day, but will place it behind a cut...
We drove out to Boordy Vineyards for a picnic. There was music, I danced with both my sons, toured the fields and winery, drank far, far too much wine, wore a tinsel tiara with bright plastic jewels for most of the day, flirted shamelessly with my husband, and sat on a blanket under a tree, surrounded by soft grass dappled with bright spring sunshine. There was nowhere we had to be. We were already there.
Sunday was given over to painting #1's room, but the day ended with a musical performance. #2 wrote a song for me, and performed it with #1 accompanying on bongo drums. I cried.
Perfect day. Practically perfect weekend.
But it got me thinking. I am not a naturally happy person. Prone to sadness and anxiety, my mood is set at low most of the time, a pilot light for my life. In the past I would have probably been called melancholic. R told me he couldn't remember the last time I'd seemed so happy. And that is kind of sad in a way. But I'm not thinking about that right now. Right now I'm the sort of person who has a song written for them. I'm the sort of person who dances.
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We drove out to Boordy Vineyards for a picnic. There was music, I danced with both my sons, toured the fields and winery, drank far, far too much wine, wore a tinsel tiara with bright plastic jewels for most of the day, flirted shamelessly with my husband, and sat on a blanket under a tree, surrounded by soft grass dappled with bright spring sunshine. There was nowhere we had to be. We were already there.
Sunday was given over to painting #1's room, but the day ended with a musical performance. #2 wrote a song for me, and performed it with #1 accompanying on bongo drums. I cried.
Perfect day. Practically perfect weekend.
But it got me thinking. I am not a naturally happy person. Prone to sadness and anxiety, my mood is set at low most of the time, a pilot light for my life. In the past I would have probably been called melancholic. R told me he couldn't remember the last time I'd seemed so happy. And that is kind of sad in a way. But I'm not thinking about that right now. Right now I'm the sort of person who has a song written for them. I'm the sort of person who dances.
This entry was originally posted at http://vjs2259.dreamwidth.org/211452.html. Please comment there using OpenID.