Think about this past weekend . . . this past week . . . this past month. Take a few minutes to reflect how things have gone, are going.
When you are ready, write about the worst thing that happened to you this past weekend, or week, or month.
When you are done with that, write about the best thing that happened to you this past weekend, or week, or month.
Worst and Best. Just write.
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I went numb this week. My light went out, and my heart cracked. Inside my chest, an iceberg began to grow. Cold and frigid water flowed through my veins and froze me to my fingertips. Like a clod of dirt, a heavy brick – I plodded through the motions without feeling. Too much cruelty, rabid hate, pernicious disregard, soulless evil. It had pushed me beyond sorrow, past pain and depression. Numb. How ugly this world has become. That is the worst thing that happened to me this week. I couldn’t even cry. And then my husband took my hand and wove his fingers between mine. His silence radiated, pulsated, and his love pushed itself, unspoken, through my pores and wrapped around my lifeless heart. And squeezed. I could feel the thaw, emotions bursting back to life, painful and electric. My husband held me while I cried chunky tears of melting ice, swollen spring rivers of disgust and fear and pure sadness. That was the best thing that happened to me this week.
karen53, this is so beautifully written. You have captured in words what many could not say, or look at or acknowledge. You write with such an honesty, an openness and eloquence. Your words leave me breathless and make me look at what I don’t want to see (this is all good and important). And then… you describe the turn-around, the saving that happened. I especially love “held me while I cried chunky tears.”
Gorgeous writing. Thank you for posting. Nice to see/hear your writing again.
When our children were still home for dinner every night, we would all answer two questions: What was the worst thing that happened to you to today? What was the best?
The rules with “Worst and Best” are that everyone gets to say what they want with no interruptions, no judging, no fixing, no admonitions. It was about the freedom to say what really happened and the ability to focus and listen. We learned things about one another we wouldn’t have known, wouldn’t have taken the time to find out.
The “kids” live away from the family home now, with their own families. I miss those times around the table. Hmmm. . . perhaps my husband and I should rekindle that tradition.
A week ago, the worst would have been the long, winding road home after attending a wedding along the northern coast of California. The best would have been spending time with our daughter and her husband and our Neighborhood Family and Friends at our “adopted” daughter’s wedding. Our “adopted” daughter’s parents are still alive. The bride has a close circle of family and friends and many adults in her life who might also consider her to be their “adopted” daughter. We got to meet the groom’s family and his close circle of friends.
It was a joy to witness the bride and groom’s love and devotion to one another. Several families on our Lane have known the bride since before she was born. We watched her grow from energetic youngster to serious college student to a young woman who collects friends and holds them close to her heart. We watched from her first date to her young man to her first dance with her new husband.
But it was her dance with her father that got to me. They chatted and smiled while dancing, every so often one or the other would lean back and laugh. I thought of the many times he was there for her, teaching her kid things like how to swing a bat or ride a bike and adult things like driving a car and being in a relationship. Her parents have been married for over forty years. Looking around at wedding guests, I realized there were at least ten couples who have been married over 40 years. What wonderful role models for this young couple, just starting out on the perilous journey of marriage.
The other best would be hearing good news from our oldest son and his wife during the drive home. Another best was our youngest son starting a new job. Hopeful new starts with many “worsts” and “bests” to come. It was a great weekend.
As a parent with young children, you don’t know how your children will turn out. You do the best you can and hope for the best. Then you have to wait . . . until the day your child says he has found the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with, or the young couple phones with news of buying a house, or they announce you are going to be a grandparent.
Life is grand with many worsts and hopefully more bests than worsts. But without the worsts, we wouldn’t appreciate the bests. So, let’s raise our glasses in a toast . . . to appreciating getting through the worsts and celebrating the bests.
Marlene, I found your best/worst SO intensely comforting … like a putting on a well-worn, enveloping, favorite sweatshirt … I read and reread it several times. The words were wise and direct – universal, really. You shined a light on all the best things – when you “write” them, we “see” them. I’ll toast with you – cheers to overcoming the worsts and basking in the bests.
Thank you, karen53. “Seeing” is a great compliment. I’m so glad this was comforting for you. I love your description . . . reminds me of snuggling with the kids when they were little. Tradition, ritual, so important.
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