Today I was in mourning, shrouded by gray tufts of fog, sealing me into my own pensive world within my car. I spent the day
in my mind, imagining, grieving, pondering, breaking out only to enter the high schools, speak about my school and hastily return to my car. Enveloped in the warmth, I hung on each and every word feeling the myriad of emotions that each sentence evoked. Over brunch, I took in the black and white print more hungrily than I ate my food, desperate to find out, to know. Finally, as darkness settled, the words, both spoken and printed, stopped. Their job was completed and now they could rest.

Tonight, I am in mourning. Mother Nature grieves with me, pounding my hotel room window with raindrops as the wind whines and whistles across the glass. Outside is the Bucksport harbor, filled with heavy fog and little white caps. The water is dark, swirling and moody--it seems restless, hungry. The gloominess permeates the air, walls, skin and makes everything feel heavy.

Tonight I mourn for the characters I will never meet, for the happy endings that will never come, for the worlds that have been so terribly destroyed, for the children whose innocence has been stripped away, for all whose illusions have been shattered and for all who will never be able to fully express and release their sorrow. Today, I finished two novels that were both heartbreaking and hopeful. Two authors have captured the human spirit, the human psyche with such honesty and humor that closing the back cover after those final, poignant moments filled me with emotions too numerous to count. My tear-filled eyes made the last pages difficult to decipher, so I paused until the tears fell, clearing my sight. Such beauty to behold in these pages filled with words, punctuation and white space.

Over the years, I have been made fun of and laughed for how I react to films, books and music. These forms of art affect me and I have no choice but to respond. Sometimes something in the song, movie or book just funnels into me, making me so full of feeling that it literally leaks, and occasionally pours, out of me. Certain moments or harmonies will elicit laughter that bubbles in my toes, flies through my veins and erupts out of my mouth. Other moments create a sorrow that penetrates my heart, making it swell to such a size that it no longer fits in my chest so it liquifies and leaks out my eyes. When I laugh or cry at art, I lose a part of myself--something in me leaves my body and soul forever. But, when I laugh or cry at this art, I am reminded of my humanity, of my ability to empathize and feel, and I feel alive--powerful. During these moments, I connect to every generation, to every sorrow and I am a part of something much larger than myself. Communing with words and music is my religion, it is where my faith and strength is fed.

Today I was in mourning for characters who have never walked the Earth, breathed the air, seen the sights; but, in my mind, for just a few hours, they became my companions and friends. Their struggles, sorrows, and successes belonged to both of us--a burden I willingly carried. When it was over, a part of me ended and so today, I mourn. Tomorrow will be a new day, filled with unknown characters and unique experiences--the process begins again.