Anyway, we were informed that our dearly beloved (this week anyway~last month he was a swear-word) missionary son would be leaving a week earlier than expected. And the funny thing is, they just said it, like it was Okay to just say something like that~like it was legal and everything to do this to a missionary mother~because of course she was aaaaalllllllll out of things to do to prepare the young lad~having speedily and efficiently planned, purchased and packed every needful thing for TWO YEARS IN BRAZIL~in fact, she'd probably been twiddling her manicured fingers and pedicured toes just to keep busy~and wasn't feeling the least bit tender about his impending departure.
"Bring it on!" they'd heard her scream~fist to the heavens.
So they done brung it.
I ugly cried everywhere I went. In the fruit isle picking up oranges? Dripping snot and smearing it on my coat sleeves. In the fabric store choosing white fur trim? Howling with head flung back and mouth corners turned down. At the restaurant eating steak and salmon with vanishing son? Sobbing and drooling with head propped up on fist.
More water dripped and pooled from my orifices than had any right to escape from a person's face. I just kept an adult diaper taped to my chest all day to sop and absorb...Hey, if you're going for ugly, might as well own it, baby.
Anyway...I nearly drowned in the waves of emotion...but then, suddenly, was FLUNG and TOSSED back into the air like a GIANT, BOUNCY BEACH BALL...(which resembles my abdomen as well as my fleshy hooters, so it was the perfect analogy)...by my dear friends and loved ones. Who knew when I was "friending" people that they would come in so very handy one day? Bless their optimistic hearts.
They told me happy things~made grand promises of future blessings (which I wrote down and also kept track of who said what, so they're accountable for said promises and blessings coming to fruition,) and just basically gave me a delightful sense of well being...kind of like Serotonin, but in people form.
So I'm much better now. Just like the nearly dead peasants laid out as garbage in Monty Python's Holy Grail...
...not dead yet...
...feeling much better, actually...
But just to be safe, don't take that corpse cart away just yet. I still have ten days to tread water~and it looks like another wave is about to come rolling in and I never learned how to surf emotions.
"Anyone seen my diaper bib?"