TEARS

Yesterday, it was the picture of the girl at Homestead making heart hands over her heart. This morning, it was the story of the women and kids taking showers in Texas after their journey. I’ve been an adult for a long time. I don’t cry in public, as a rule, not even in private, much. But as I have gotten older, of course I feel more open and vulnerable, and have joined the ranks of those who laugh at themselves for tearing up over commercials. This, though, is of a different order. The floods of tears in response to what seem like small moments, the always-almost-crying, the feeling like having an open wound that never, ever heals. I know I am not alone in this. I see it reflected in post after post and comment after comment in this group. Everything is too much, literally too much, our hearts’ pain and love pours out, overflows, and here we are, on the ladders or at our computers or walking down the damn street in New York City, faces running with tears.

This is us, now. Banded together across the country and the world, joined in misery and, I hope, hope. Doing our work, or taking a break from our work to survive for the next step. Brothers and sisters in arms, brothers and sisters in tears.

No estamos solos.