Of fate, longing, and toenails

This month finds me preparing for our move. And as always, I'm distracted by books.

Tonight, it's an entry in John Koenig’s “Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows” — “Lachesism” — the longing for clarity that disaster brings, that captures my attention. This notion, deeply resonant with my Greek heritage, reminds me how closely disaster lurks — it's but a mere thread or snake bite away, echoing the indifferent fate meted out by the mythical Lachesis.

Last month, my daughter and I spent an evening with David Sedaris at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre, along with 2,763 of his closest fans. Sedaris’s ability to turn the mundane into philosophical yet comical observations captivated us both, sparking gut-wrenching laughter. It was my hope this shared experience would ignite a lasting appreciation for his storytelling and humour, as it has for me.

Tonight, his wry observations feel like revelations.

As our moving date quickly approaches, it’s the small calamities that resonate.

We live amongst organized bedlam, navigating the Jenga-like towers of boxes, all the while trying not to trip over our two cats. Each item we pack away is laden with memories, each one a potential catalyst for clarity or further chaos in our lives, especially as I’m always competing for my daughter’s attention with whatever is playing on her headphones — music, or God knows what else.

Yet, just yesterday, she came running out of her room asking for bandages. She explained that, like Sedaris with his 21,000 daily steps, she had circumnavigated our tiny apartment so many times in her Birkenstocks that her toenail came off.

Ah, the crowning achievement of my parenting had finally revealed itself!

We shared a moment of connection, laughing and reminiscing about our night with Sedaris. It’s easy to lose oneself in screens and distractions. But when disaster strikes — disappointment, heartbreak, or even a toenail — that's when we truly come alive.

Everything sharpens.

Crisis brings clarity, but it’s hard to hold onto. Fleeting.

“You can't help but take this life for granted. Your eyes gradually adjust to the color of the walls and your ears tune out the chatter. And while your brain goes numb trying to shake off your complacency, your heart can’t sit still, and your gut is hungry for it,” Koenig tells us.

Lachesism is my lament, my cry to embrace chaos, to find meaning in the madness.

These are the moments I aim to capture in my writing — the beauty found in chaos. They remind me why we cherish stories like those of Sedaris, why we delve into books like Koenig’s, seeking to understand and articulate the absurdity of our modern lives.

It is here, in the interplay of laughter and calamity, that life feels most vivid, reminding us of its glorious messiness and our profound connection to it.