WEEPING IS NOT WEAKNESS
Turquoise, rosy cornflower, and baby blues traverse the horizon as I settle into my porch chair, coffee in hand. A new day is dawning, and nothing but beauty surrounds me; yet, as I sip my coffee tears well up and spill down my cheeks. I don't wipe them away. There is no one here to see, to question, to pat my hand or ask if I am okay. I am, actually, fine. This is normal. My normal. At this point, I cannot in all honesty claim it as 'new' normal. It has been over eight years since my son died. There is nothing new in my tears. Sadness isn't the reason for this salty release. I wasn't woken from the grip of a nightmare's torment. Nothing horrendous happened to someone I love or me personally today or yesterday or recently. This week, in fact, has been particularly lovely, filled with moments of total joy. Good writing. New opportunities. Blissful rides. Great friends. Buoyant laughter. Joy. My weeping this morning, in thi