Health & Fitness
To Cry or Not to Cry
"Mom, you're not going to cry at graduation are you?" My daughter asked me. Translation: please don't cry, or set your hair on fire, or any other parental hi jinks. I'm not going to cry I assured her. I tend not to cry at graduations, I view them as true commencements, beginnings. So I planned to stay dry eyed. She probably didn't believe me, because I am a cryer. Big time. I cry at sad movies. When Kevin Costner says to his dad in the movie "Field of Dreams" "Wanna have a catch?" I tear up. My kids always look at me in darkened theaters while I sniff at "My Dog Skip" or any other "family" movie. I cry while watching TV. Hallmark movies really do me in. And the commercials are worse. But I said I would not cry Sunday at Graduation when my youngest marched in while they played Pomp and Circumstance. I cried, quietly behind my sunglasses, the last day of Kindergarten. Mushy over the idea of half-day school ending and full days apart looming. And there were summer days I longed for school to start again so much, that I almost cried. At one time, my then 5th grade son pointed out to me almost weekly that it was the only year that he and his sister would both be in the same school building; ever. I said "yeah, yeah, finish your breakfast/homework/chores." But on the last day of his 5th grade and her jr. kindergarten year, I cried. It was just as he said, their only time overlapping in the same building, and it got to me. I hid my tears the time he showed me his first swimming medal. Remembering how he cried when I "forced" him to take swimming lessons, until, I said, he could swim the length of the pool or save himself from a sinking vessel whichever came first. I swallowed a lump in my throat when she sat on her big brother's lap at church during the children's sermon,up in front gathered around the pastor. And, I blinked mightily when they were confirmed. The last time she donned angel wings for our city's production of "The Nutcracker" got to me. I knew the future might see her as a toy soldier or mouse, but that stint as an angel really made me weepy. When he walked into the classroom for his kindergarten readiness assessment, when she made a sandwich for her ailing grandmother and urged her to eat. I fought back tears. No, I won't cry at graduation I told her. I'll be dry eyed I'm sure. But that morning, when I wake her up saying, "Morning, Glory" and kiss her cheek, just like I have for 17 years, well, I may have a lump in my throat. I'm just say'n