I woke up today to receive the morning’s sun-kisses, as I like to do as often as possible.
But this particular morning, something about the kisses made me very sad. Out of no where, it seemed. To my recollection, my feelings were not hurt by any interactions or situations from the previous day. That would be the easy explanation.
Then, I thought, the sadness must have come riding in on the wind. A moving force as gentle and as tangibly present.
Which, as I write, I realize is more literal than I unknowingly meant.
Last fall, I felt sad, too. And the fall before that one. Sad things just marked the opening of the fall season with a little bit of meloncholy. A little bit of “saudade”, a Portuguese word that does not translate easily into English. It is not a depression but more of a homesickness.
Knowing that you cannot return to the place you once felt most at home.
A vague but constant longing for something which exists but is not attainable to you in the present, when you are dreaming wistfully for it.
I don’t think this sadness will stay close by this year, as easy to pick up as it has been….like a recognized flower on a walk down a familiar lake-side trail. This year, it feels like I’m closing the lid of a music box as it winds down its playing of a blue tune.
In any case, this whole encounter made me question: do our bodies remember sad times? More than our memories do?