Generally, I’m not much of a cryer. I’m not boasting when I say that. Trust me when I say there are moments when I wish for little more than a sob session to release the emotions that at times well up inside me and practically beg to get out. Honestly, tears would be welcome.
But, like I said, I’m not much of a cryer.
Last week, though, my eyes filled with tears repeatedly. What can I say? Children and full moons apparently are my weakness.
It started with a book. Author Nikki Grimes’ recent memoir, Ordinary Hazards, relates the story of her childhood. Grimes, the second daughter born to a mentally ill, alcoholic mother and a musician father with a gambling habit, survived a childhood that was rife with abuse, neglect and instability.
What saved Grimes and propelled her forward were words and their power to provide comfort, hope and confirmation of her own value. The intuitive and undeniable impulse she had to write, saved her.
This quote really resonated with me –
She’d prepare a hearty soup for them from scratch or bake a batch of cookies to lift their spirits. For such kindnesses, that mother was beloved by untold unfamiliar people beyond our door. On them, she lavished the attention I had once been hungry for. Oddly, her redirected affections made a certain sense to me. Apparently, my sister and I had made the colossal mistake of not being strangers.
My childhood was nothing like the one of neglect and emotional abuse experienced by Nikki Grimes and her sister, but I’ve known students who have suffered a similar existence…girls who have been sexually abused in the same beds in which they had once been tucked into and boys who have been told by their grandparents that they are no longer welcome to live in the only family home they’ve known.
I work in a middle school. My students are children. While mere words may not save children who are living in dire situations, I believe my most important job as a librarian is to provide kids with books that can do just that, save them, by letting them know that they’re not alone, they’re valued and life can get better.
The fullest moon in the sky has more of a chance of holding all of the sadness I feel, than my eyes have of containing my tears.
Anyway, I settled in at the bar and asked Nick to make me a Stoli gimlet, a cocktail that I thought would go swimmingly with my dinner. As has been my experience without fail, my drink was perfectly executed and delivered refreshingly cold and slightly tart. Yum.I sipped my drink and chatted with Nick about travel and music, two favorite topics for both of us, until my date arrived and we placed our dinner orders. I tweaked mine a little, opting to skip the roll and save my carb intake for the hand cut fries as my side.
