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non-fiction Opinion

It is Okay to Cry Out Loud

My two-year-old had a particularly rough Monday.

First, in the wee hours of the morning, it is raining and dark. He is in his school clothes, strapped in his car seat. In front of his daycare, we find out the daycare is closed forcing me to take a day off work.

At home, he and I stare at each other’s face with confusion on what we should do with one other.

The first response from a distracted parent…

I turn the TV on, snuggling with him in bed as I flip open the lid of my laptop. Ten minutes later, he is tired.

“Mama, turn the TV off.”

I look at him like, “dude, what is wrong with you?” I do not allow screen time and here, I have opened the floodgates to it, enjoy!

I turn the TV off. We stare at one another. He pulls on my hand. He is leading me down the stairs. He wants to start this day that refused to begin with the school closure.

I call the gym. They have a play area where the caretakers are well familiar with him and he with them. It would provide the outlet the little guy needs. They have room. Yay!

My boy and I ride in my aging mini-van to the gym. He is the happiest I have seen in the day. An hour later, I return dripping in sweat. My lemonade (from the lemon life threw at us)!

He is waiting for me. The caretaker says, “He was just not the same without his older brother and sister (who are at school,) and just waited for you to return.”

We come back home and the garage door refuses to open. I reach for my keys, and the home key is missing on my key chain. I circle the home to see if my carelessness would pay off with an open door. Nope.

My boy waits patiently as I try for another fifteen minutes for the garage door to open. The garage door tends to stick and not open on rainy days. I struggle with it.

After a half hour, a memory returns to me. I had taken the key off while getting my car serviced. Five minutes later, I feel it buried in my purse. I hop out in joy. Open the front door. I am in my home, at last.

I walk to the garage and press the garage button from inside. It refuses to budge. Then, I realize what happened.

In America, where only massive storms force the power out, there is no power in my home on this sunny day. I am shocked. I go back to the front door where a neighbor is walking his dog.

He confirms he is without power too. Anyway, my boy and I are at least inside our own home.

I heat his lunch on the stove instead of the micro. He eats it silently. The only fuss he is making is not leaving me alone, even for a second. Not playing. Not doing anything fun. Just silent.

Moments later, he rises with his water cup to the water dispenser. Presses the down button and there is no water.

And, the calm and composed baby of mine, slaps the cup to the floor and bursts out crying!

I hold him and explain to him that we have no power and hence, no water. He leaves the rest of his food untouched and goes to bed.

The light comes back in an hour when I shower after my sweaty workout from the morning. But, to my little one, I must say…it is okay to be calm. But when life slides down a slippery slope and nothing seems right, it is okay to cry it out too. Be human.

Here is to the comfort of electricity we enjoy in the US! And the ability to cry out loud on rough days.

 

By Mars D. Gill

From an early age I wanted to make connections with people from across the globe. Allowing emotions to escape the deep recesses of one’s mind, and be spilled into a sheet of paper for the world to read lays an opportunity for reader and writer to combine in a nameless bond, one of oneness, and intrigue. It bares a private part of the writer for all to see. It is daunting and exciting. If a written word can dissipate the worry from another heart, if a written word can bring to a face a smile or a tear, then that connection is complete, and a word shatters the physical distance and brings souls together in harmony and joy. This is my dream, only a dream at the moment.

When I was 15 years old, we got a new English teacher. She spoke so beautifully and clearly and made me want to be a better person. Despite my age-old struggle with language(s), I was fascinated by the world of writing. My teacher inspired me to be a constant memory keeper. I feel at some level she taught me how to think.

Now years later, I am blessed with a career and a family that keeps me busy. However it is that 15-year-old in me that is knocking on my heart and via this little personal web site, urging for outlet for my life-long aspirations of writing and as well as begging for validation of all the dreams, old and new that just do not go away. So, here I am on word press with my own website to see where my dreams take me.

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