It wasn’t that she liked being sad. She was just good at it. She was good at holding it. She was good at letting others share their sadness with her. She wasn’t dark, or depressed, or morose. She just wasn’t afraid of it.
She had experience with Sadness. Sadness was an old friend. A warm blanket. An escape from all the letdowns and disappointments life served up.
Because she allowed sadness to walk with her, she gave a kind of permission for people to try out the healing power of a friendship with sadness, no strings attached.
And since she and sadness were so intimately acquainted, her sadness looked different to the rest of the world; almost aspirationally so.
When sadness isn’t feared, shunned, shamed, or chased off like a thief in the night, it can transform.
With sadness as a healthy companion, she moved through the world and life just a little slower. She gave more grace and had more patience. She would say she noticed just a little bit more but everyone else said she had gifts.
You know, like she gives better weather reports than the professionals. She whispers, “Watch out,” suspiciously too soon before someone trips or drops their coffee. She knows when people are lying and always feels it when something bad is coming down the pike.
She was kind and lovely. She rarely became overexcited, less because she was lacking in energy and more so because everyone in her life stopped pretending to be excited with or for her.
All these attributes coalesced to create the most delightful neighbor. When she floated through Tammany each morning on her way to whatever adventure she’d selected for herself for the day, she seemed to radiate an invisible mist that smelled like a fresh spring garden. Any soul lucky enough to cross paths with her experienced an inexplicable, immediate equanimity and tranquility lasting several hours.
Her name is Georgiana Louie DesJardins and she is a story. She was born in the United States but retained her parents’ thick French accent. As such, both Gs in her first name are soft, her middle name is pronounced lou-ee, and her last name sounds like day-zhar-DAH. She does not pronounce the last n because, though most people do, her papa did not.
She’s one to keep an eye on in The Emberlaine. If there’s ever part of the story that feels confusing or perplexing, she’s likely the one who’ll straighten it out.
Sparks 