The Wedding Party

Tragedy Schillerdenkmal_Berlin_Gendarmenmarkt_Begas_1“Clio! Did you see the bride? She’s gorgeous!”

Clio didn’t look up from her journaling, but nodded in consent.

Melpomene nudged her again.

“Clio! Look at the bridal party on the steps! They’re beautiful! Look!” She was beginning to lose patience with her sister. She squinted to get a better view, then added:

“Do you think they’ll last? I don’t think they look happy at all.”

Clio reluctantly looked at what all the excitement was about. She shrugged and returned to what she did best: recording the events of the day in her journal. At the moment, she was recording another event taking place to her left. She glanced up to ensure that she was getting the details in the right order. She was the Allegory of History after all. This was her responsibility.

Clio paused from writing in her journal and now addressed her sister.

Clio“Mel, I think I liked you better when you were interested in music. All you do now is search for tragedies. You seem determined to see the worst in everyone and everything. Can’t you ever see happiness anywhere?”

Melpomene turned to regard Clio.

“No,” she shrugged and threw her hands up. “We have sat here for ages and watched wedding parties come and go. You tell me, Miss Write-Everything-Down, how many of them do you think are still together? Go ahead, check your notes.”

Clio stopped and considered, rubbing her chin.

“On that point, you’re right. Many of them still aren’t together–”

“I knew it!” Melpomene shouted in triumph. “Tragedy and sadness reigns!”

“Hold it!” Clio retorted, cutting her sister off in her moment of glee. “I said they weren’t all still together, but I didn’t say there was any sadness. It turns out that those whose marriages didn’t work out actually enjoyed the rest of their lives better apart than when they were married. Go ahead, check my notes.”

She nudged her sister. “They lived happily ever after, just not together. Despite what you think, life isn’t all about sadness after all.” She returned to writing in her journal.

Melpomene huffed and pouted then returned to what she did best: searching for the tragedies of life.

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