Broken Straws and Laughter

I made a hole in my straw today. The result is that I’m having to pull hard for every sip of this cold, light, sweet coffee that gives me life. Okay, maybe it doesn’t exactly give me life; but it sure does perk me up.

As I sip, my mind starts to wander, as my thoughts have a tendency to do. I start to compare these hard pulls on the straw with the way I had to pull through so many days since Mikey left this world.

There were days when my spirit had to “pull” on some invisible string just to get me out of bed. Like a marionette, those strings moved me from here to there automatically and without thought. Those were harder days.

I pulled thoughts out of my own mind that told me I wouldn’t make it through. Some days I believed it. Who could live through so much pain? Would I ever feel any real joy again?

A week ago a friend shared a funny story with me and I laughed. Laughed so much that it made my belly hurt. I didn’t think once about how long was “too long” to laugh. I didn’t wonder if the sound of my laugh was convincing and if I had the right look on my face. I just laughed without thought or effort. I didn’t have to pull.

This morning someone said to me; “have a good day off and laugh a lot.” I really think I can. This woman “runs on Dunkins” and is also fueled by laughter.

My broken straw will not be mended, my broken heart won’t ever be the same. Still, if I keep pulling at this life, I’ll taste the sweetness of it over again.


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