A Lie I Like to Tell

Tonight I trekked into the woods to look at fireflies. I walked through puddles and wet pine needles and slick roots and the bright beams of a dozen cell phone flashlights. The chatter around me made me giddy for camp, which is coming so soon... I feel a rush of excitement around people connecting with each other, and that's all camp is.

On the solitary drive home after dropping off friends, the music roared through my car and I belted out "ALWAYS SOMETHING THERREEE TO REMIIIND MEEEE" at the top of my lungs even though only fifteen minutes prior I'd been falling asleep in the passenger seat. These 80's jams are balm to my soul, bringing me back to life after a half-hour of being practically brain dead with fatigue.

This morning I woke up and my first thought was "my coffee is gonna taste so good." And it did. I savored every sip. Even now I'm looking forward to tomorrow's early cup.

So cut to the chase, Sarah, what's your Lie?

My lie is that I'm jaded. Fed-up. "Bitter." You've all heard me tell this lie.

I like to say (or maybe just think to myself) that I've had too much pain in my life to not be totally cynical and hardened. But as I sat in the passenger seat earlier letting the wind catch and lift my hand as I held it out the open window and pondered the miracle of flight, I laughed to myself.

I'm inclined to joy. And hope. And, well, delight.

Can I really call myself jaded when the sight of a single firefly makes my heart jump?

Am I really that fed-up when I still fall asleep happily anticipating the next morning's coffee?

Logically, I should fall asleep pondering all the wrongs done to me, and drift off into the subconscious dreading another mundane day.

Yet, the spongy soil under my feet makes me thrilled and grateful, despite the constant memories of loss. Seeing patterns in the tree branches entices my brain to more creative thought, though I could devote all my energy to trying to figure out why certain things have happened to me. Hearing the comforting, deep laughter of someone I admire makes me ache with love, even though I have no reason to believe they aren't going to somehow hurt me, in some way, some time.

I find myself confused sometimes. Because slowly, but surely, I am becoming happy. Something that seemed impossible even just six months ago. It's funny I'm so happy. To be honest, the evidence leads me to believe life is awful, people suck, and it's all pointless...

But I guess there's something inside of me that hasn't gotten the memo yet.