Una’s little world 12. It’s the little things
by Una Hearne.
Like that hug when you feel utterly safe and loved. Or that moment when someone stands up for you and you know they will always have your back. Or the belly laughs you share with your best friends over something daft. The little things really are the big things.
Which they can’t be bought.
Just saying.
Thinking about belly laughs brought a couple of incidents back from the distant past. They happened because of two ME/CFS symptoms, which just goes to show – silver linings! Not that I’m making light these symptoms which have also caused me embarrassment and inconvenience, but I do like to knock as much craic out of everything as I can. Anyway, way back then I didn’t realise they were ME/CFS symptoms, I just accepted I am quite unsteady on my feet when tired and I have an appalling memory. Both issues have meant I can be quite the clown (I so own the clown thing) and have provided much incident and laughter in my life.
Like the time of my mid-year assessment in my final year in art college. I had just finished presenting my work to a panel of four lecturers. Gathering the contents back into my huge A1 size portfolio and hefting it up, I wobbled, tripped over my own foot and fell flat on my face. I landed arms outstretched on top of the portfolio with its contents spilling out (looking for all the world like a supplicant in front of an altar, praying for divine intervention). I looked up. The panel were valiantly trying to smother their laughter and the two men were hurrying around to help me up. I made a vague gesture with my hand and said ‘This is not part of my presentation’. The laughter erupted from all of us (slightly hysterical in my case). And here I am, 30 years later, still giggling at the thought of it. That’s good mileage for a laugh!
The other one that just came back to me was the time I forgot my own name. (Yes, really.) In a pub with my regular gang of girlfriends 20 years ago, having a great time. A good looking boy comes over and starts chatting to me. We exchanged a bit of banter and he asked me my name. I drew a total blank. I stared at him (I may have been doing a fish impression at this point). (I definitely was.) My friend leaned in and said ‘Her name is Una’. Relief, I pointed ‘Yes, what she said’. Clearly thinking there was something very wrong with me, he quickly faded away. My friend told the rest of the gang and we all laughed till we cried. I felt wrapped in a warm cloak of love for me and my quirks. Good times. Good giggles. Good friends. The big things.
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