Loneliness is like an elephant. . . by Sara Swenson

Periodically, I find myself searching through the house again for things that bring a connection to Sara. . . things that I might have missed in my previous searches.  Last night I happened upon a treasure that was right under my nose.  On the nightstand in one of the bedrooms Sara occupied (she occupied ALL of them at one time or another, as all of her older siblings left home), was a 1999 edition of  "The Teacher's Selection Anthology of Poetry".  I had put a quilted cover on it, left it as a decorative piece there on the nightstand, and then almost forgotten what it was over the past few years.  As I picked it up and opened the book to the page marked with an old bookmark of Sara's, I found a poem that she had written back in elementary school (when she was 10).  Her 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Slonecker, had nominated Sara's poem to be included in this book.  The name of the poem is "Loneliness Is Like An Elephant Sitting On You". 
It goes like this. . .

When the elephant sits on you it hurts

just like loneliness.

When it sits on you

it hurts you on the outside.

When you're lonely

it hurts your mind and heart on the inside.

When the elephant sits on you

it squishes you like a pancake,

just like loneliness squishes your heart.

And that makes it bad to be sat on

by an elephant,

just like no one wants to be lonely.

Maybe it's a poem that only a mother would love, but I dearly love it.   I sometimes feel like my heart is being squished, or that it is being sat on by an elephant.  I think that is a good way to describe those heavy emotions of sadness, loneliness, fear, or guilt.  It is not constant. . . . kind of like the elephant is just in the room, and sometimes. . . it decides to sit on you.  (that's an interesting play on words too!)  

It is a mystery to me how some days I can think I am doing pretty well, and the next day that huge elephant just won't get off me!  Not that much changes from day to day, but it seems to be a constant struggle to stay on level ground.  And I know it is that way for all of us.   So. . . I keep telling myself to count my blessings. . . . .which are many.