Adjective: Self-pityingly or tearfully sentimental, often through drunkenness.
March began for me with a spontaneous trip to Florida for two gloriously sunny beach days jumping waves and talking and being in the arms of my grandmother. How easily I could have stayed and soaked in the ease of life in warm weather and sand beneath my toes left me longing for college days in southern California.
Shortly after my return to the cold downpour season in San Francisco, I felt bombarded with bad news and the falling apart that comes with blows to a solid routine. Whether it was ending a sulky lunch by slipping in a restaurant full of people or realizing during a friend’s funeral that my dress was torn and I had been mooning the catholic church, breaking fillings or squinting to see art clearly because my tears poured too heavily, March was relentless in testing my strength to find a sense of humor in it all.
But I did, with long days in cafes with friends who I love and the constant reminder that things really could be tremendously worse, that I’m as fortunate as I’ve ever been. As I’ve now entered my last month of my 20s I feel that I’ve never acknowledged how much there is to learn about life and its secrets, feelings yet to be felt, life left to hopefully be lived.
Don’t worry, April gets better. More film tomorrow to pick it all back up, and then soon a wedding that revived my tears back to happy tears.