My Spring sadness is really more like a tinge of melancholy, but that didn't have the same alliterative pleasure. But March melancholy does. And my March has been tinged by melancholy.
It's not serious of course. It's the kind of melancholy where I should really take a minute to recognize the melodramatic urge that would even have me choose the word melancholy.
One of my colleagues had a pot of hydrangeas on her desk, and we talked about the beautiful hydrangeas we had known. We won't know them here; they won't grow in our sandy soil, and I talked to a friend, and we both agreed that even keeping them blooming in pots is tough. We don't know why. We talked about how much we missed them.
My friend laughed and said, "Here we have orchids that fall from the heavens and grow without effort, and we get sad over the fact that we can't have hydrangeas."
That seems an apt metaphor. Still, I'm sad that I fell away from my poem-a-day practice. I'm missing a variety of people. A different friend had a dog who sickened suddenly this week and had to be euthanized. I've been sick, which probably makes me more prone to melancholy.
Of course, the season of Lent is a good season in which to feel melancholy. It's good to feel under the weather and to remember that we are dust. It's good to remember that we won't be on this planet for very long and to be spurred to use that time wisely.
With the election of the Argentinian pope and the anniversary tomorrow of the martyrdom of Archbishop Romero in El Salvador, I have repressive governments on the brain. That, too, leads to my sadness.
Even events which make me feel happy also feel tinged with melancholy. I went to Portfolio Review this past week. How wonderful to remember that students leave my Composition classrooms and go on to be amazing in their Program areas. How sad to see them go after such a short time at our school.
The seasons are shifting, and I feel the slight sense of dread that comes with hurricane season. That, too, sinks my mood.
I've got some downtime this week-end, so hopefully, I can perk back up. I'm mostly done with my severe cold. I've written a poem about hydrangeas and orchids and mangoes and apples. I've been getting back to my memoir project. Soon the tourists will be gone, and the traffic won't be so bad. I feel myself slowly starting to get back on track.
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