The Little Things

https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=273759070386243

The link above takes you to a clip of “Point of No Return” wherein Bridget Fonda’s character smiles through gritted teeth, “I never did mind about the little things”. I had almost forgotten about this film, and it surfaced briefly when some nogooddoer decided to make Fonda’s private life the source of his own insecurities where we could gawp and gawk at a middle age Fonda who doesn’t look a smidgen like this waif assassin (and all the better for it).

Anyhoo, I somehow mixed this quote in with Hamlet’s Ophelia, the famous Tate picture depicting her drowning, the rosemary, daisies, fennel, pansies, rue, and columbines that were part of her wildflower death bower that are eclipsed by the red poppy depicted (and not mentioned in Shakespeare). Now, I cannot seem to find the actual Ophelia quote that underscores how it isn’t the big items in life that lead her to this end, but the small love offerings and ditties that have been rejected. I’m still on the hunt, but it seems in keeping with Ophelia’s character even if I have somehow morphed a 1990s phrase with a poor young woman from long ago.

I had the stunning realization a couple of days ago that I had somehow glossed over/blanked out some of the “little things” the past couple of months. Yes, it had been a terribly frigid January, and we were actually snowed in an entire day (first time in six winters). Yes, I had been consumed with beginning a sourdough starter–I would not recommend with -30 below temps even if you do have quite a bit of time on your hands. Yes, I was suffering through intense depression over not finding work, meaning, value, purpose in my life. Dark, dark, dark days. So dark, I cannot really tell you the shape of them during that time. I know I must have fed myself, showered, cooked, cleaned, and…that’s about it. No pleasure in little things. No knitting new projects. Not really reading. Not writing. Not laughing. Not watching favorite films or shows. Sourdough starter is the only clear picture I have from that time, and aimlessly scrolling through social media for hours and hours sitting on the couch huddled in blankets and my beautiful Christmas robe.

What’s even more tragic? (I hate to use this word as is it really a tragedy?? Then again, Ophelia may think so if I could find the right quote) is that I brain blanked on items that I absolutely love and enjoy. I forgot “Mammy Banter”, an Irish comedian from Derry, Ireland, who could make me burst out in immediate laughter. I neglected to realize that my reading suggestions subscription list stopped in January, because I wasn’t really reading in my normally avaricious capacity. I pushed away all the little things, the markers of life that are beacons in our days, to move us from one monotonous task to the other. I was on autopilot. Bills were paid (thankfully and gratefully somewhere in this automated state), tasks were (maybe) completed, humans and canines were fed, but joy and hope vanished. In retrospect, I can only analyze I was not even deserving of these small benedictions of grace in my day, and somehow punishing myself by not allowing myself the pleasure of their company.

Let me tell you–this kind of person is a real killjoy to be around. When you look at that word, “killjoy”…that’s actually what I was doing. Only not just to others but killing joy within myself.

So, then. Time to reclaim Mammy Banter, the knitting, the voracious reading of novels, the BookBub readings lists for later. The comfort films and idle porch sitting. The joy and spirit of life.

Because, friends, I think I really DO mind the little things.