CRY BABY

CRY

I took this picture in my doctor’s waiting room because it made me sad. Even older people sit on their phones silently scrolling. We don’t talk to each other anymore. For someone who didn’t cry much as a kid, I’ve made up for it in adulthood. These days tears spill from my eyes, often over the littlest things, like the child’s animated movie, “The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse.”

Yesterday, I happily sold my car for the asking price, but the second I handed the buyer my keys, tears began falling.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Apparently, the prospect of never driving my Subaru again undid me. Who knew?

Punch, a baby monkey at the Tokyo Zoo, was recently rejected by his mother. So, a zookeeper gave him a stuffie for company. Watching him cuddle something that can’t cuddle him back is heartbreaking. I figure if I don’t laugh, cry, feel anger or love every week, I’m not really living but rather inhabiting a zombie shell. We were born with a full range of emotions, and should use them …