Tears

I was late picking up James - it is the hardest thing in the world for him. I couldn't help but remember something I wrote a year ago:

Crocodile Tears
Today at gymnastics, James landed funny and twisted his ankle. His coach brought him an ice pack - and I watched as he tried to hold back the tears. His little lips were quivering, and he was trying to avoid eye contact with anyone, but he looked up and caught my eye. He couldn't hold it any longer - a tear or two ran down his face. But, then he looked away, trying his mightiest to be brave.

Looking at his little face, I was flooded with that feeling, trying to hold back my own tears, trying to be brave, but feeling so sad inside. I felt so much compassion - not just for his little ankle (which will be just fine) - but that he is old enough to even think about holding it in. What a tragic circumstance. When babies are distraught - there is no public awareness. They could care less about bawling, throwing tantrums, shouting out in pain. But as adults, we care...or perhaps we want to avoid questions. Questions like, "Are you alright?" Its kind of a silly question - obviously, if someone has crossed the threshold from trying-to-be-brave and is actually welling up there is something wrong. I have made a solemn promise to myself - that I will avoid this question. That I will instead sympathetically smile, give someone that knowing touch, just change the subject and not bring it up unless they want to, or simply say, "I'm sorry." These are the things that help the sad two year old (and I guess me).

I will now start mourning for James - I hate the idea that he has to become so publicly aware - isn't he too young?! I wish we could all be raw and real - but sometimes that doesn't help heal the hurt either. Sometimes just making it through until we are in a safe place to release our burdens - in James' case the car ride home - is the best way. Thank goodness for safe places.