Sometimes I cry.
For good reason. For no reason. For everything. For nothing.
Sometimes emotion floods my chest and fills my belly. There is nothing like being pregnant with feeling.
Today is one of those days.
Someone posted something nice and sweet about me on Facebook today. As my eyes swelled I wondered, “could she really be talking about me?”
The tears began to flow and I answered, “Yes, she is really talking about you.“
A few moments passed and I got a text from my nephew. “You have shown me how to be strong, pay attention, be patient, and never give up,” he said.
My eyes swelled again and I thought, “could he really be talking about me?” As the tears made the trek down my cheeks, before meeting at the center of my chin, I answered, “yes, he is talking about you.”
Today is one of those days.
I just read an incredibly moving post by Amanda Palmer on Patreon. Her friend died and it was a beautiful death, as beautiful as death can be. And I was moved to tears, yet again. I managed to make it through the first two paragraphs before the puddles clouded my vision. My jaw trembled, my heart swelled, and the ocean poured from the wells of my eyes.
Death is definite, but not finite. It is the transference of energy, an exchange from one thing to another. And I am moved, every time.
I cried a good long while after reading that post. I cried for all the people who have had to say farewell.
For my grandmother who grieves my grandfather’s absence every single day.
For the dreams I am birthing into this world. And for the dreams that will never be born.
For the love I feel when I look at my daughter. And for the little girl she will never be again.
For my own stubborn will. And for the giving up that will never come to be.
For the sisters in my circle. And for the women who may never witness their own brilliance.
For the men who feel too much. And the ones who are too scared to feel anything at all.
For the goodbyes that came all too soon. And the goodbyes that did not come soon enough.
For the perfect blue sky. And for the rain that avoids this desert land.
For the smiles I routinely witness. And the hearts that bleed endlessly.
For stillness. And frantic energy.
For quiet. And the not-so-silent sound of silence.
And for the me that is. And the me who used to be.
Today is one of those days. (tweet this)