The Ink In-Between: An Anthology

Joy In Sadness

PROMPT: Pick an uncommon word and write a short story about it (ex. "Charmolypi", a feeling that combines both joy and sadness). 

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When I was little, I cried a lot. And I still do.

I bawled for hours on end when I was a baby. Nothing my mom did seemed to work, and though she visited dozens of doctors, none of them could figure out what was wrong.

I cried in the middle of the street. I cried in my sleep. I shed tears on my birthday, on sunny and rainy days alike.

"Why are you crying?" people would ask at first, filled with worry.

"I don't know," I would answer, which only made me cry harder.

Eventually, people stopped asking anything at all.

"You'll never have a friend like that. Nobody likes a crying baby," my aunty would say with a sneer.

She was right, of course, so I tried to stop altogether.

I didn't cry when classmates pushed me into the river.

Didn't cry when I broke my leg.

Didn't cry when mom hit me.

Didn't shed a tear at auntie's funeral.

Didn't cry when a snake bit my arm.

But there was a problem, you see. I still kept crying.

Sadness was a lot like that snake, I thought. If it was small enough, I could just follow its tail and cut its head, burry it under a rock. But some snakes were long, so long it felt like they could wrap around the world. I could never find their heads, and so I could never stop those tears from coming.

"You'll never find a boyfriend like this," my friend would sneer, looking down on my shivering body curled up on the floor of a bathroom stall.

And she was right too, of course. I never did find a boyfriend. But I did find you.

Lying down on the sand next to you, looking up at the stars, I would start sobbing. You would hold my hand and say,

"The universe is so big, beautiful and empty. It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"

I would nod and hold on tighter.

Sitting at a bar, looking at my plate, tears would start flowing and you would hold my hand, smile and say,

"This food is so good I could cry too!"

I would snort, roll my eyes at you and hold on tighter.

You didn't run away from the snake. You never found its head, or killed it for me either. You just petted it, like the beautiful fool you were.

"Sometimes you just have to let yourself feel sad. That's how you know you can smile with real joy," you would say the few times you would cry.

And whenever it happened, I would just hold you in my arms, as tight as I could, and pet your long black braids with a smile from ear to ear.

When I was little, I cried a lot. And I still do.

But I've learned that that's okay, and it's all because of you.