Permission to Cry
Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>
Alone in the wheel of light at the dining room table, surrounded by an otherwise darkened house, I sat in tears.
Finally, I'd succeeded in getting both kids to bed. A relatively new single parent, I had to be both Mommy and Daddy to my two little children. I got them both washed, accompanied by shrieks of delight, crazy running around, laughing and throwing things.
More or less calmed down, they lay in their beds as I gave each the prescribed five minutes of back rubs. Then I took up my guitar and began the nighttime ritual of folk songs, ending with "All the Pretty Little Horses," both kids' favorite. I sang it over and over, gradually reducing the tempo and the volume until they seemed fully engaged in sleep.
A recently divorced man with full custody of his children, I was determined to give them as normal and stable a home life as possible. I put on a happy face for them. I kept their activities as close to how they had always been as I could. This nightly ritual was just as it had always been with the exception that their mother was now missing. There, I had done it again; another night successfully concluded.
I had risen slowly, gingerly, trying to avoid making even the least sound which might start them up again, asking for more songs and more stories. I tiptoed out of their room, closed the door part way, and went downstairs.
Sitting at the dining room table, I slumped in my chair, aware that this was the first time since I came home from work that I'd been able to just sit down. I had cooked and served and encouraged two little ones to eat. I had done the dishes while responding to their many requests for attention. I helped my oldest with her second grade homework and appreciated my youngest's drawings and oohed over his elaborate construction of Lego blocks. The bath, the stories, the back rubs, the singing and now, at long last, a brief moment for myself. The silence was a relief, for the moment.
Then it all crowded in on me: the fatigue, the weight of the responsibility, the worry about bills I wasn't sure I could pay that month. The endless details of running a house. Only a short time before, I'd been married and had a partner to share these chores, these bills, these worries.
And loneliness. I felt as though I were at the bottom of a great sea of loneliness. It all came together and I was at once lost, overwhelmed. Unexpected, convulsive sobs overtook me.I sat there, silently sobbing.
Just then, a pair of little arms went around my middle and a little face peered up at me. I looked down into my five-year-old
son's sympathetic face.
I was embarrassed to be seen crying by my son. "I'm sorry, Ethan, I didn't know you were still awake. "I don't know why it is,
but so many people apologize when they cry and I was no exception. "I didn't mean to cry. I'm sorry. I'm just a little sad tonight."
He crept into my lap and we hugged and talked for a while, and I took him back up to his bed and tucked him in. Somehow, it was possible for me to get to sleep that night, too.
Thank you, my son.
A tongue can abuse and carry bad news
The seeds of distrust it will sow
But unless you've made no mistakes in your life
Be careful of stones that you throw
My neighbor was passing my garden one time
She stopped and I knew right away
That it was gossip not flowers she had on her mind
And this is what I heard her say
That girl down the street should be run from our midst
She drinks and she talks quite a lot
And she knows not to speak to my child or to me
And my neighbor then smiled and I thought
A tongue can accuse and carry bad news
The seeds of distrust it will sow
But unless you've made no mistakes in your life
Be careful of stones that you throw
A car speeded by and the screaming of brakes
A sound that made my blood chill
My neighbor's one child had been pulled from the path
And saved by a girl lying still
The child was unhurt and my neighbor cried out
Awww, who was that brave girl so sweet
I covered the crushed broken body and said
"The bad girl who lived down the street"
A tongue can accuse and carry bad news
The seeds of distrust it will sow
But unless you've made no mistakes in your life
Be careful of stones that you throw
Author Hank Williams
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