What’s the Deal with Crying?
Such a common expression of emotion hasn’t gotten much attention
Cry, baby
I was pushing my shopping cart up and down the aisles of CVS, trying to remember what was on the list that I left on the kitchen table. The lineup of overhead music switched to a new song. I felt a surge of unwelcome emotion as my eyes stung with tears. I had one of my crying “hiccups.”
“Oh damn,” I realized. Whitney Houston was singing, “I believe that children are our future…” from The Greatest Love of All. I had to veer my cart over to the side and try to appear like finding the right laxative was my sole purpose in life. I don’t even really like the song.
But a memory of my daughter caught me. At the age of five, she stood on a chair at Thanksgiving and belted that song out with such confidence and such feeling that she inspired laughter and misty eyes around the table. I am a sucker for that memory.
I don’t cry gracefully. I get lunar rings around my eyes; my face turns red and puffy. My nose runs and my throat gets gravely. It’s not a good look. I fumbled for my Kleenex and sunglasses and got the hell out of there.
Later that day, I learned that my godmother had died. I felt like someone jumped on my chest. It was hard to breathe, and my…
