brokenpurplecrayon

I like to think there aren’t many things that can make me cry. I work with children whose personal stories of trauma and tragedy can make strong people lose faith in humanity. I have personal experiences with multiple losses. I have held the hands of the dying without tears. I have been told I am not the person I was expected to be. And all of this, for the most part, I face dry eyed.

When I was little, I cried regularly. Sometimes for no apparent reason. “I’m just sad” I’d say… “I don’t know why, but I need to cry.”

This week, despite moments of absolute love, I have felt those floodgates being pressed upon by a seemingly random series of events. Little things that add up into a force that has power, like droplets of water that slowly wear a hole in stone.

I don’t know exactly why, but I think I might need to cry soon.

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