Sadness crawls in through my back door, wearing a collar that opens the cat flap. She crawls into my bed and rests on the pillow. Her warm breath keeps the icicles in my eyes melting. I hold her paw and the purring begins to deafen all my thoughts. Snow falls from the ceiling fan, burying us both.
When I wake up, she has stretched herself across the shelves of my memories. Carefully, she knocks down each and every memory I own. I don't mind her antics, because I don't know who I'd be if I didn't feel sadness come home each night and fill the space in my bed. Her sharp claws and love bites leave scars that give me something to look back on fondly.
Even as she tears my entire house apart, throws my laundry on the floor and refuses to wash her dishes -- what more could I ask of an emotion so fickle, so pure? She is the only emotion that ever lasts.
If happiness ever burdens my windowsill with cries for food, sadness hisses, and complains. I open the window for happiness to come home, but it's sadness keeping me company instead. I cannot abandon an emotion who does not know any better than to be what she must. It is not her fault I've borne her into this world. So, I pull a blanket over my lap and pat my legs hoping she takes her rightful place. I scratch under her chin, just how she likes, and wonder if I could keep these green eyes with me forever?
Her clawing on my bedroom door wakes me from my sleep. I wonder what this little creature intends to do? As my feet find the floor I realize the scraping has already stopped. Sadness is gone. I search desperately for any trace of her, under the bed and in the closet. Then, I see the window open for happiness to come in -- and fall to my knees.
In the morning my coffee is too bitter and I've run out of sugar. Just when I think the emptiness has replaced the two emotions I've grown so accustomed to greeting, I hear a little beep. The cat door flies open and it is happiness and sadness both, tails twined together. I sigh in relief and call them both, assuring them I have room for each to grow.
If suffering comes from attachment, I'm in for a lot of pain. I can't stop thinking of happy memories and breaking down into tears because I know memory-making opportunities are far and few between. She isn't gone yet, but one day she will be and I'll have to train my emotions to be less fickle.