So after the angst-fest last night, I logged into World of Warcraft. Because there, depending on my persona-du-jour, I can fight evil with a crossbow and pet wolf, explode badness with magic spells, protect my friends with frozen armor, or best of all, heal the world. And my kidneys don't hurt, and I can turn flips when I jump...and, um, I can jump. After Alex went to bed, I started doing mage stuff...you know, turning bad dudes into pigs or sheep, and freezing monsters in blocks of ice to immobilize them while I explode them with the power of my mind. It's a darn fine form of escapism, especially when you're surrounded by and smothered with the enfeeblement of real life and the limitations of the actual human body...and you can't go outside.
A few minutes in, one of my guild-mates asked if I'd like to run through a dungeon with her, and I happily agreed, and we started looking for others to fill out our party. It was about this time that Alex woke up, saw that I was doing something without him, and insisted on coming along. Not much use in arguing, and fortunately, we have amazing, wonderful, compassionate and understanding friends in-game who don't care if the hunter takes a few extra seconds to mark a target or send his razorback into the fight (yeah, his pet is a wild boar--what else would it be?). In other words, they're willing to carry their friends when needed, with no complaints. I asked if it was OK if he joined, and of course was told yes.
It was a largely uneventful run--I don't think anyone died, and it was lots of fun for everyone. We even stopped and took a victory screenshot at the end after downing the big boss. Because we are soooo dorky.
That's Alex's hunter on the left, then our bud Drifty, that's Alex's ferocious pig, Jasmine, right behind my squishy little mage-self with my glowing stick of death, and over on the right is a warrior you do not wanna run into if you harbor any bad intentions, because she will shout you to death.
It was after all this, when I'd said my goodbyes and offered my thanks to my fine friends, that I looked over and saw this:
And I smiled.
Somewhere, deep inside, beyond the overwhelming sadness and confusion, there was a whimsical, joyful spark in my husband. Something that felt, just for a moment and in a virtual world, like dancing. And while his spike-helmeted avatar busted his MJ moves, my heart danced a little, as well.
Sometimes it's the very small things, the tiny moments.