Friday, September 13, 2013

when women cry

This has been a sucky week.

(Yes, "sucky" is a word. I am an English speaker. I know the rules, and the  -y suffix makes adjectives. So, suck+y= sucky.)

My neighbor is mourning her daughter, church feels heavy-heavy, my kids are tired and fighting, and one of my grandparents is not doing so well.

(I wrote that as upbeat as I could, without inventing more English words. You're welcome.)

I cried after I dropped my kids off at piano lessons because I'm a woman, and when I don't know why I feel sad, I cry while I drive, or in the shower, or under my pillow.

It is strange how there are often no thoughts that correspond directly to a woman's grief. It is the whiplash of a thousand tiny sorrows felt suddenly and all at once.

We will be okay. Just give us a minute to bawl and miss our moms, or wish our grown children were still small enough to cradle, or to remember the way new love blossoms into true love that lasts forever.

(Yes, women are a mess. But you love us anyway. We like that best of all.)

After piano pick-up I turned on one of my favorite Pandora stations.

Because the 80s power ballad is always there when you need it. Don't Stop Believin' and Keep On Lovin' You reminded me that I may not know exactly what I'm sad about, but REO Speedwagon and Journey, they understand me perfectly.

Then I played cards with my kids, because I don't want to compound my sorrow by missing today, September 13, 2013, when Boy 1 is exactly 3522 days old, Boy 2 is 3119 days old, Boy 3 is 2688 days old, and my baby is 1757 days old.

(I'm recording these ages in days because that is how you count the age of babies. You don't count years when children grow so fast, you see.)

After our game, I found a new laugh line on my cheek when I washed my face. My immediate thrill at the acknowledgement of this line proves it: I am either too young to feel so old, or too old to worry about anything much at all.

At any rate, laugh lines are a blessing, like hieroglyphics on an ancient wall boldly proclaiming history: THIS FACE KNOWS JOY.

Dear sucky week: I am finished with you. Thank you for this new line brought on by laughter in the midst of your wretched attempts to weigh me down.

I won't stop believing, and I will keep on loving everyone in my path.

Because sucky weeks come to us all, and after the tears fall, the joy will be found one line at a time.

One. Line. At. A. Time.

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