Sad, sad, sad, sad songs

As I sit here in the waiting room at the eye doctor after being told to “use hand sanitizer and then step over here to have your temperature checked”, I’m finding it hard to feel okay. It’s super strange to me that I’m allowed to touch any and all of these glasses and put them right onto my face and then back to their little resting spot after those initial strong mandates were aimed my direction. 

As I stare at myself modeling the frames in the mirror on the wall, I’d laugh about it, but I don’t think it’s funny at all. I’m always on the verge of tears these days anyway, but it’s hard to breathe through this mask and I hate it from the very depths of my soul. And now an extremely sad, memory-inducing song is playing over the speaker despite the echoing laughter coming from the office around the corner.  It's like they can't even hear it.  Even if they don't, it's still blatantly disrespectful to my memories.

The lady in the section of chairs next to mine comments to a second lady about how cute it is that her mask matches her purse. Another even sadder song begins to play. The lady in front of me chimes in that she saw some very cute patterned masks at a local store this week and they were on sale. Eavesdropping on this discussion has reduced my indignation and misery to a fashion accessory. Good for them! They aren’t crying and feeling bitter as they sit in their waiting room chairs behind their sparkly, colorful purse-matching face coverings ignoring the sad, sad melody completely. They seem to be able to breathe just fine and enjoy talking through the cloth, oblivious of any pain wafting through the air in the shape of music. 

As for me...my mask is solid black. And never will it be anything more. Like mourning. It’s appropriate for me in these days of my life. And when I get in the car to go home I’ll take off the offensive thing, turn the sad sad JP Saxe music up very loudly and wallow in how sad he is because that’s what I do.