Letting go

Antidepressants are good. If you have to take a pill, taking an antidepressant seems to be the pill to take at a time when getting out of bed is the highlight of your day. And those warnings that antidepressants might lead to thoughts of suicide…? Hogwash. That feeling isn’t a suicidal tendency; it is the clear formulation of the idea that in sleep there is respite. Quite often these days, my husband and I look at each other around dinner time with the understanding that it really is too early to go to sleep. This morning we said it at around 11, after the plumber left, having installed our new water tank. The old tank died, leaving in its wake several inches of water in the basement. The new one is quite spectacular, in a shade of blue that makes it seem like a giant Easter egg nestled in the corner and cozying up to the metallic grey hot water heater which was our old ‘new’ thing. The old water tank was also blue but, covered as it was with dust and rust, you didn’t notice it very much. The new water tank is big and shiny and very, very blue, like the sky on a clear day seen through your sun glasses and the tint at the top of the windshield; an impossible, vibrant blue. Your eye goes to it as you walk down the basement steps like “Boinnngggg, look at the new water tank”! And it should! For what this cost, it should have artistic value!

We are off now to look at a new car, the old one having died a few weeks ago but we were in too much shock to do anything about it so my husband and I have been doing EVERYTHING together. Although my stomach is tied in a knot, there is hope in the act we are about to perform: the act of letting go. I have been holding on to whatever we have so tightly I haven’t been able to breathe in weeks. It felt good to buy the water tank; to let our sinks and toilets, washers of dishes and clothes once again function as God and Maytag intended. Perhaps I’ll feel even better when we say “yes” to a new or used car and get on with the business of getting on.