A good friend asked me to read a paper she wrote. It was about her grandmother that had passed away. The paper was well written and touching, I suppose, but it was the story she told me afterwards that made me cry.
My friend phoned her grandfather and read him the paper she had written about his deceased wife, because she thought he would like it. She told me that he listened in silence as she read the paper to him, and by the end he was crying. He then asked her if she would send him a copy of the paper to put on his fridge. My friend’s grandfather is blind.
By the time she finished this story, my dry eyes were long gone. Even writing that story made my eyes watery. It starts with caught breath after noticing or seeing something. Then my face gets warm and the backs of my eyes start to tingle. A big gulp usually follows, as do the tears. It happens a lot. It isn’t an expression of sadness usually—just one of emotion. When I hear about people doing nice things, I cry. When I see anyone, especially the elderly, extremely happy, I cry. When I see people cry, I cry. Whenever I think about the time that I got mad at my mom for mixing the sour cream and salsa together because she thought it would make it taste better, I cry. When I go to baseball games and see people so happy because someone hit a homerun, I cry. When I think about the old woman using a walker to hold herself up while she sang karaoke, I cry. It isn’t big, sobbing, sniffling crying. Usually just a tight throat and a tear or two. But I like it. It is refreshing and calming and always makes me feel a little bit more content.
Challenge #6, January 6, 2011: Cry.