I am an ugly crier.
Some people, when they cry, have a peacefulness -- a sort of beauty -- to them. Which I will never understand. Most of the time tears come from pain, whether physical or emotional, and how do people have that peacefulness when that pain is rocking their bodies to the point of tears?
Of course, happy tears are always beautiful, no matter how contorted the face may become.
I cannot tell you if these tears that are flowing right now are stemming from pain or happiness, but they are flowing. Actually, I am sure it is a mixture of both, each caused by the experience of great love. I can see my reflection in the computer screen, my mouth drawn tight, quivering; redness spreading over my cheeks. My whole body shaking. Snot dripping down from my nose.
Like I said, I am an ugly crier.
I had glanced at the notes that Dan made on my manuscript when he returned it to me in January. In fact, I had read most of them. Just not in order. But today, as I sat down and read them, focused on them, contemplated them, I went from the first page to the last. Which means I re-read, for the most part, my entire story. I got to the last page, and I couldn't hold back the tears. The sobs.
In the margin, Dan wrote in blue ink, "I'm crying too."
Thank you for crying with me. Thank you.
And to answer your question, yes, I still have the sea glass. I will show it to you sometime. It's beautiful.
