A Three-Day Lifetime - or - Lacing Up My Therapy

Yesterday I wrote a play with children. I was singing songs, cracking jokes, and forgetting about the world outside those doors.
Today I will work at a wedding. I will be creating the dream day for some princess, making sure everything is perfect, and watching her friends and family dance like fools for one night.
Tomorrow I will go to a funeral and bury a friend. I will not ask why, I will not break down, I will only try to close that book with a smile and move onto another one.

It's a whole lifetime of experiences, laughter and tears, pride and pain, jubilation and suffering, life and death, jammed into three days. If I were listening, it would speak volumes about who I am and what I surround myself with, but my mind is somewhere else, and I can only seem to focus on my own emotional pendulum.

So I will go running, try to shift my focus onto my breathing and give the torrent of memories in my head a chance to settle so that the sun can shine through the water again.

It looks like rain.