You Once Overheard Me Say That I Liked It
On Connection and Matthew Olzmann's "Mountain Dew Commercial Disguised as a Love Poem"
Lately, I've been thinking about the small things that sustain me. The past year has been challenging because of a change in my job, and I've been struggling with burnout and consistently feeling overwhelmed by everything. However, several good things have come out of this season, including an increased ability to notice and appreciate glimpses of hope, love, and connection.
I'm learning to cling to the small stuff, the everyday moments or objects I might usually overlook. I try to savor my favorite iced coffee drink. I wear clothes that are soft and feel good on my body. I consume media that fills me with delight. I cherish time with people I love. The other day, I made myself get quiet and still and think of moments throughout the last few months when I've felt goodness.
My best friend had groceries delivered when I had the flu last year, including applesauce. So after not eating for a while and feeling exhausted, I ate the applesauce in bed at 1:00 a.m., and it tasted like a gourmet feast. She also sent me coffee the day my grandma died and sent me macarons and cupcakes for my birthday. She always feeds me when I need it the most.
I have a couple of friends who will text me with music and podcast recommendations. Their knowledge of my tastes and interests makes me feel seen and cared for.
A friend brought me a beautiful blooming plant that smelled like spring.
One of my supervisors said something kind about me, and I saved the email.
A student I know told me they always feel safe around me.
I was walking into church this past Sunday, and someone yelled my name from the parking lot and greeted me. After attending churches where I felt invisible, that meant a lot.
None of these things are grand, sweeping gestures. Some of the people involved might not have given their actions or words a second thought, but these moments of love are fuel. The seemingly small things add up and become the big connections that make up our lives and make us feel whole, even (or especially) when we're struggling.
As I thought about these things, a poem that came to mind is an all-time favorite from Matthew Olzmann called "Mountain Dew Commercial Disguised as a Love Poem." Olzmann is talking about marriage in this poem, but the heart of his words can apply to any relationship. Romantic and familial bonds are the ones that get the most attention, but friendship is what often sustains me in these difficult seasons. Friendships can be the most beautiful love stories.
Mountain Dew Commercial Disguised as a Love Poem
Here’s what I’ve got, the reasons why our marriage
might work: Because you wear pink but write poems
about bullets and gravestones. Because you yell
at your keys when you lose them, and laugh,
loudly, at your own jokes. Because you can hold a pistol,
gut a pig. Because you memorize songs, even commercials
from thirty years back and sing them when vacuuming.
You have soft hands. Because when we moved, the contents
of what you packed were written inside the boxes.
Because you think swans are overrated.
Because you drove me to the train station. You drove me
to Minneapolis. You drove me to Providence.
Because you underline everything you read, and circle
the things you think are important, and put stars next
to the things you think I should think are important,
and write notes in the margins about all the people
you’re mad at and my name almost never appears there.
Because you make that pork recipe you found
in the Frida Kahlo Cookbook. Because when you read
that essay about Rilke, you underlined the whole thing
except the part where Rilke says love means to deny the self
and to be consumed in flames. Because when the lights
are off, the curtains drawn, and an additional sheet is nailed
over the windows, you still believe someone outside
can see you. And one day five summers ago,
when you couldn’t put gas in your car, when your fridge
was so empty—not even leftovers or condiments—
there was a single twenty-ounce bottle of Mountain Dew,
which you paid for with your last damn dime
because you once overheard me say that I liked it.
Who are the people in your life who keep Mountain Dew in stock for you? When have you felt seen and loved lately? How can you show up for someone else in the same way this week?
I'd love to hear your thoughts on those questions and this poem.