This line I read this morning made me, sitting there at my kitchen counter eating breakfast, start weeping. In the novel, Meet me at The Museum, one of the protagonists (this is a story told by two people) is pondering his adult daughter’s decision, and he writes (it is an epistolary novel)

I am like a man standing on a shore watching people he loves rowing a boat. As long as they are safe in the boat, nothing else is so important.

I woke up feeling sad and less-than and like I have wasted my life. Like I have failed all of the people I love the most. Like I have also failed myself. I’m not really sure why I felt this way, except for a conversation I had with my sister yesterday, and an argument (discussion?) I had with Kendell last night, and maybe because of a poem I read yesterday (This over the./One of the rules for writing the poems of a lonely person) and maybe because it rained all day yesterday, off and on, and my mood needed to match the world’s melancholy. Because I was thinking, strangely enough (but not so strange if you are Mormon), of my wedding, and how while I loved my dress and I appreciated all of my mom’s and sisters’ hard work in making my reception both beautiful and delicious, I wish I would’ve known then to follow my own impulses and do what I wanted instead of following all of the cultural expectations, and why does that even matter now, 27 years later, except for the fact that thinking about my wedding day fills me with a sort of sadness that I can’t help but carry all of my life, similar to the fact that I didn’t go to prom, because it feels like I missed something that most people get, and then I realize that not only do I feel sad and less-than and like I failed, but I also feel…abnormal. And yes: like all the people I love are always in a boat rowing somewhere, but I’m just standing on the shore, and I do only want them to be safe but I also still want to not have this feeling. Except, who would I be without this feeling?

(Run-on sentences written deliberately.)

So I sat there crying over my third-favorite mug and I looked at my kitchen. I thought about how many hours I have spent in this small space, making dinner, doing dishes. I bathed my babies in the kitchen sink for the first months of their lives. I’ve baked cookies and boiled cream and sugar into caramel. Many times more than I just this morning I have cried there. I thought about my mother-in-law’s kitchen, and how it was a sort of synecdoche. Maybe my kitchen is for me, too. If I died tomorrow the sink, the pale pink tiles I picked, the battered countertop would all still be there.

Why am I writing this down, in this context? This is a part of my life. This wondering, this feeling. Does everyone do this? Does everyone question their life and their decisions, their place in the world? Or is it just my overthinking brain overthinking again? I don’t know. But that is how my Wednesday started.

The day continued to be weepy. I watched a few news reports about yesterday's school shootings in Colorado and cried.

I watched the vote over whether or not to hold Barr in contempt and I cried. (Our country is just so messed up right now.)

I messaged Becky and I cried. (But I didn't tell her I was crying.)

My friend Wendy, obviously inspired, also messaged me, and for whatever reason her cheery hello helped me to stop crying.

So then I just kept working on my cutting project. I am getting really close and am already looking forward to organizing all of the squares I've cut. Kendell keeps looking at me in dubious ways, but even though it is a complete fabric whirlwind right now, this really is progress. Once all those random scraps are cut into useful squares, I'll be able to make projects much faster, and it will be less bulky to store it all.

I did some laundry—towels and sheets. I haven't switched my bed over to regular cotton yet...it's almost too warm for flannel, but I always have a hard time giving it up. One more round before I pull out the cotton sheets. I'm looking even more forward to going to bed tonight than I usually do, because that first night on just-washed sheets is heaven.

My knees had finally stopped twinging from hiking last weekend, so I decided to go for a run in between laundry loads. Kendell's schedule had cleared up a little bit, so he went with me. We went to the canyon, where there's a paved path by the river (one of my favorite parts of living where I do is this path; ten minutes from my house and I can be running under trees next to swift running water). Since he can't run, we decide on the time we'll turn around. Today I told him we'd turn around at 19 minutes and he thought I was insane and insisted on 20. I was feeling a little bit faster than I expected, and so close to two miles than I went to 21 before I turned around. So, four miles today!

Six and a half minutes into our run (I only know because I looked at my watch) it started raining. Not pouring, but not a light drizzle either. At seven minutes, Kendell called me and asked if we should turn around. I said "Oh, hell no! Running in the rain is the best! Plus, it's Utah. It could stop at any second. Let's keep going." I think he might've been surprised at my response, but really: I probably won't start a run in the rain, but if it starts raining while I'm running, I almost never stop. When we met back up, I told him he's joined the bad ass runner's club. Bad asses keep going in the rain! (It stopped about halfway through anyway. Spring in Utah!)

While I was stretching after running, I thought about two different things. First, I thought about how much better I felt emotionally after getting out on the trail. This is what I meant when I told that orthopedist last year that I don't know how to live without running. Not for the "runner's high" as he suggested. It's not about euphoria (or, at least...it isn't always) but evenness. It calms my high-strung emotions while lifting me up to a level emotional field. I love it for the physicality of it...but I love it more for the emotional health it gives me.

Second, I thought about stretching. I really love stretching, but I know not everyone wants to spend the time. I've been thinking about doing a weekly series on my IG about different stretches, how they help, how to do them properly, and why stretching is entirely worth the extra time. But I'm also sure there are one million people already doing this, most of them more qualified than I am. Would I seem like a ridiculous IG poser if I did this? Do people still use the word "poser" like that? And besides...I am ridiculous on video. So maybe not.

After running, I raced back home to shower and get ready for work. I cut it really close so I didn't eat anything. Which, even if I just ran four miles was a bad idea. I totally crashed once i sat down at my desk (luckily I was in the office for a little while). Like...I struggled to stay awake. And then I went and filled up my Hydro with soda, even though I really don't like drinking soda calories, just so I could have some caffeine to keep me going. Didn't help that I ate some pasta, too...carb coma!

While at work today, I texted back and forth with Kendell and Kaleb. I was just feeling really sad (sad again!) because Kaleb had a choir concert I didn't know about and I couldn't get off at the last minute. So I missed it. Kendell went, of course, so he had a parent there. But I wanted to listen to him sing. Sadness.

One funny library story. We have a beautiful sculpture near the reference desk of a crouching man (please note: despite many people’s opinions, this is not Rodin’s The Thinker; sure, it’s an unclothed male statue but the likeness ends there, hashtag art history). A woman was letting her daughter climb on it tonight, so I asked her to please not climb the statue. The mom said “Oh, it’s OK. I took a picture of her when she was five sitting on top of it, and I just want to recreate it.” Ummmm…not ok three or four years ago, not OK now. It’s a sculpture, not a jungle gym. I insisted she not let her daughter climb onto the shoulders.

Finally, I just want to say how grateful I am for my two sisters, Becky and Suzette. They both talked me through my over-the-top emotions today. What would I do without them?