One word. A thought. A few notes of a song.
Driving the car. Taking a shower.
Walking down the grocery aisle.
It starts as a little trickle. Breathe. Breathe.
But nothing works. And the little trickle turns into a continuous stream that can no longer be hidden. And people are caught off guard as they react – some with a sympathetic smile and some with a look of confusion. And the children just stare.
I quietly apologize for making them feel uncomfortable. They only came in for some bread and milk and come face to face with a mess of tears.