I forgot how to write

It's sad to think that you met me when I was experiencing a mid-life crisis. And yet, it is even sadder to think that this is my mid-life. All of this and more makes me profoundly sad. And then I think, what a perfect combination of three letters. The word is small enough to be embroidered on a baseball cap or tattooed across your three favorite knuckles (index, middle, and ring finger). More importantly, the letters serve as the acronym for my favorite mood disorder, Seasonal Affective Disorder, or S.A.D.

Sometimes I feel those three letters swell up in my throat. They clamber up the walls of my esophagus and seem to stumble along the way. When it is time for them to emerge victorious from the trek up my rickety throat, they cower. They peek over the back of my tongue, and they refuse to admit to the world "We are sad! We are here! Deal with it!" If I concentrate really hard, I can usually coax them out of cowardice, and they roll off my tongue and mingle with the tears tickling my face.