Nepenthe

I heard it on television, some time ago.  It was a national spelling bee word, and it's rolled around in my head for awhile.  When the contestant asked for the definition, I learned it meant solace from grief.  Its origins are Greek, the word mentioned in ancient literature and mythology as a "drug of forgetfulness."
I am aware of my own medicine for sorrow.  He is literally a little anti-depressant. He jumps on her bed, tosses pillows and burrows beneath quilts, where she can only lie still.  He flips the light switch on and off, calls out light and dark, watches the sparkling crystals spin, when she is silent and sees black.  He pulls books off her shelf, scatters dolls on the floor, plays with toys that otherwise sit mocking, unemployed.
I'm not sure whether sadness is an elected condition, but choosing happiness is often hard.  I choose it over and over, hoping it will become habit.  I look for ways to alleviate heartache and I always find one in him.  Chasing away the sad is a big responsibility for such a small person.  His opiate effect lets me forget for a moment though.  And I'm pretty sure he'll always help me remember, too.

JEB