I cried this morning.
I don't know why, really. I just felt very sad.
It's not that I didn't have reasons for my tears. It's just that none of them seem especially tear-worthy to me. Mostly, I think I was crying because I feel so out of place. I don't belong. I'm a stranger in a strange land--a sojourner.
And I guess I feel underappreciated, too.
But the point is that I cried.
It was one of those heartbreakingly quiet cries. Not the sobbing, stuff-a-pillow-in-your-mouth-so-nobody-hears-you kind of cries. Rather, it was the kind where sadness just wells up, rises in your throat, leaks out of your lower eyelids, overflows onto your cheeks and drips onto your lips.
I was crying like this, sitting in front of my computer, when Bo walked in.
"Do you want to be alone?"
I shook my head.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I shook my head.
"Do you want to cry on my shoulder?"
Yes. That was it. That's what I needed. I nodded. And then I put my head on his shoulder and cried.
And then I felt better.
We talked for a little bit, not about any one thing in particular, but about feelings in general. And then the day went on. I did some straightening and tidying around the house, a bit of blogging, a bit of reading, a lot of nursing the baby. I did some laughing, some singing, some thinking and some discussing. But no more crying. I really did feel better.
On our way home from a quick shopping trip, Bo asked me, "So, are you feeling better now?"
"Yeah," I said. "Actually, I am."
And then I told him about a study I once read that found that we women actually shed progesterone in our tears. This helps to get our bodies in sync again, helps us to regain balance.
He thought about this for a moment and then said, "So if I lick the tears off your face, I'll grow breasts?"
Now I think I remember why I was crying...
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