Fill in the Blank. “Tears of _______.” (this is for extra credit because it is so easy)

Image courtesy of Theeradech Sanin / FreeDigitalPhotos.net. Graffiti customization courtesy of yours truly.

Image courtesy of Theeradech Sanin / FreeDigitalPhotos.net. Graffiti customization courtesy of yours truly.

365 Days of Writing Challenge

Prompt: When was the last time you cried tears of joy?

Earlier today? As long ago as last night? It is with humility and honesty that I admit to you that I cry most every day. Commercials certainly get me. And those music talent shows where someone may just be realizing their lifelong dream. Of course, if my child says something extra-sweet, or if another person brags about how sweet my child is.

Also, just this past weekend, my husband mentioned how difficult it is to see our older dog getting old. He isn’t going to be around forever, you know. We even despised him years ago (he was quite a jerk, for a dog), but in his old age, he has won our hearts and made us wary of the day that his weakening hind legs will no longer lift him.

If you haven’t yet guessed, almost everything, happy and sad, will bring a tear to my eye. But it isn’t just a tear. The moment I feel that feeling, and my eyes begin to well, my nose and cheeks go red, and my eyes appear glassy for hours. This is something I cannot control. This has caused me embarassment at work over the last couple of tumultuous experiences, but more so, at home each and every night of my life. “You’re crying over that?” Yes. Yes, I am.

As for the real tears, I can only recall three specific instances of really bawling in my adult life. The first time, as a teenager, I cried over a boyfriend. He broke my heart so I, in turn, broke his. And I cried on my mother’s lap, she stroking my hair asking what happened, me only sobbing more with each gesture of tenderness from her. The second was when I slipped and fell on our stairs when I was in labor, and we were leaving for the hospital. I broke my arm, and it hurt – really hurt, and this was pain on top of pain (labor pain). I lay in the floor wailing, my poor husband clearly at a loss, and desperate to know what to do (although he did a good job). The most recent incident was related to work, when I learned that the only option was to leave. I was devastated, and am sure that the person in HR on the other end of the telephone line had never encountered a more crushed soul than was I at that moment.

But tears of joy, those are common for me. Does this mean I am too happy? Too sad? Am I so surprised at the good in the world that it moves me to tears on a daily basis? I am more apt to believe this final scenario than the others. Afterall, the news is built upon the saddest story of the day – the destruction of others’ lives. But still I watch. It may be that seeing the other sad news helps me to appreciate the good moments on reality TV shows, or when my kid does something awesome, or when I am able to do something as simple as hold the door open for another person whose hands are full. I am moved by both the momentous and small moments in life, because something as simple as a smile or an acknowledgement can change someone’s moment. Not their day, but perhaps a small gesture can give someone else a few moments of happiness.

As for crying, if you don’t want to see me glassy-eyed and red-nosed, then steer clear of those stories where someone is victorious, a victim, courageous, or scared. Certainly, don’t tell me of your secret fears or a triumphant moment. In these cases, I will cry. Tears of joy, anguish, happiness, sadness, grief or relief. I am a sucker to all these emotions.

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