Water Works

They can strike at any time--while driving, holding a child, sitting and reading...seemingly without provocation. Can I blame my recent cry-fests on hormones? A highly emotional state in general? I don't know, but I can't say that I mind my tears terribly. They usually come after some time reflecting on my life, the lives of others, their impact on me, etc. Some recent examples:

• After reading a Leonard Pitts op-ed about his 17 year-old daughter graduating from high school; I didn't think it particularly well-written, nor did I even know half of the songs he alluded to in the "soundtrack" of this time in his life, but I couldn't help think of my own little girl, how quickly she's growing, our tender moments each day, and how utterly beautiful she is to me.
• Saying goodbye to 4 and 5 year-olds going to camp, kindergarten and beyond. Ok, ok, anyone who knows me is aware that I've cried through every promotion of any child I've ever taught in the last 10 years, but add to that 10 other little ones singing "You are my Sunshine" and having to speak publicly (ie, reading a little certificate), then you can just imagine the blubbering.
• Thinking of Elliot and how hard his journey seemed to me, how much he's grown, how many people love him, and how inspired I feel by him. His life has made me such a better person, and I'm blessed to share in his life, and wake up to his smile every day.
• A friend who struggles so much right now. I think of her often and tears come. I think of her words of comfort to me, when I was struggling with CT scans and mysterious, scary-sounding diagnoses, and how I didn't believe her when she said it would get easier, that in a year, we'd be ok. She was so right, but her words to me felt dismissive, made me angry. I wish I could ease her pain.
• The realization that I will one day lose my mother. She's healthy and well, now. But lately, feeling surrounded by life and death, thinking of not having her around, and how hollow I will feel is real to me for some reason right now. Each time she calls me, I feel extra connected, and extra happy that she is right there. I think of a friend whose lost her mom recently, of how real her pain is, of how she struggles each day. I'm afraid of a pain so deep.
  
• Bringing Ana to camp just for a week. Leaving her with folks I don't know at all, who were rather nonchalant made me feel like a hover parent. Picking her up became the joy of my day. For a week. What will I do when she goes to kindergarten???
  
• Our lives. Yes, all of it just made me cry. On the way back from vacation, between snorts, and sniffles, I told Kevin that I'm very happy. That he makes me happy. That he's a wonderful husband, friend, lover, father. That while I feel like we are always struggling, we have so very much to be thankful for. And I just cried and cried. And he was probably incredibly grateful to be driving, and having to watch the road as his hormonal wife turned three shades of beet, sobbing on I-10 on the way home from the beach.
  

I'm sure to the emotionally reserved this sounds nuts. But honestly, taking some time to think about it all has been so good for me. It's good to be alive, to feel, to have love.