Having said that, I decided to make a list of things that get me choked up. Why? Maybe I'm a masochist, or maybe because if you see me, I'd want you to come up and talk to me and we can compare sentimental notes. They say misery loves company, and boy, am I one of those people. So here goes...
- Looking at my children's faces, and I mean really staring, memorizing the shapes and colors of their eyes, the length of their hair and lashes, their smile and teeth, the moles, how tall they've become, and trying to paint a mental picture so I will forever remember the way they looked at that very moment.
- Praying. It makes me feel vulnerable, so open.
- Thinking about people with Alzheimer's, and how afraid I am to contract it and lose my memories of my loved ones. I wouldn't even want to lose track of my bad times, because it made me who I am today.
- Listening to Kenny Loggins' "Danny's Song." Add to that, John Denver's "Annie's Song," and Simon & Garfunkel's "Bridge Over Troubled Water." I think I'm an old soul, because these songs speak to me. Let's not forget, Freddie Mercury's "Love of my Life." The Cure's "Just Like Heaven" somehow makes me feel all fuzzy inside.
- I guess I'm also a new soul, because Adele's "Someone Like You," and Diane Birch's "Nothing But a Miracle"--and most of Alanis Morissette's songs strike a chord. And when the first few strains of New Order's "If You leave" start, it recites a much-too recognizable beat that makes me pensive.
- Putting away my children's outgrown clothes and shoes. I always have a hard time letting go, which is why our house is packed with old stuff to the brim.
- Watching the movie, "Pretty in Pink." I guess because I grew up quite poor smack in the middle of a school and friends that are not, made me so insecure--and Molly Ringwald's character in this film always reminds me of myself. I always felt like I shouldn't be with someone who had more than my family did, and so I turned down quite a few suitors (which in a way is a good thing, otherwise I might have been with child at 16), and no adult in my life ever explained how ridiculous those thoughts were to me--which is why I'm very close to my kids, because I hope they never have unanswered questions in their minds.
- Giving birth and seeing my kids' faces for the first time, and trying not to cry when I do. I don't know why I always do that, and it happened three times already. I guess I don't want to steal my newborn's thunder.
- Seeing orphans--in any form and age, breaks my heart. Which is why when my kids are grown, I will probably adopt a baby. Let's not tell my husband about this yet, or he might freak out of fear.
- Seeing old people who are homeless is heartbreaking. Doesn't need an explanation.
- Remembering how I've been in-love with my best friend for years, and how we fight and find a way to stay together despite everything, always makes my chest hurt. I fear that he will die and leave me alone, or I might die and not see him and my little angels anymore. Sometimes even the thought of going to heaven is scary, because it means that I will be without my family for a while.
- Pets hurting, and their short life-expectancy (to me, anything below 20 years for them is short). When you are like us and your dogs are like your children, this will undoubtedly leave you grief-stricken. Recently, we were at our balcony getting some sun with the baby, and we saw a nice-looking, older man walking his dog with a long stick. The dog would naturally veer to the sidewalk just to sniff the grass, and the man would immediately whack him with the stick so hard the dog would wince so loud in pain. We were shocked and couldn't help but berate him from our roof ("Is that your dog? Why have a pet? Just give him away!"), and he just gave us a sheepish grin, like the devil in disguise that he is. To this day, I have daydreams of marching up to him and just hitting him with his stick.
- Photos of LA or NY, and TV shows that depict it, make me homesick and nostalgic. Reminds me of old times with good friends, and how I must get back and see them soon.
- Thinking about my maternal grandmother who passed away, and how I didn't get to see her when she did.
- Writing this list.
- The thought of parents playing favorites, and how unfair it is regardless of what age the child is.
- Seeing my children sick in bed makes my chest hurt, in a numbing pain that gets alleviated only after they get better--and when they are, that's when the tears really get going out of exasperation and relief.
- Knowing that I lucked out when I married my husband, even if our wedding day was just in front of a judge because that's all we could afford back then, but we wanted to make sure our daughter had the proper last name so we made sure to have one. That we haven't had our church wedding yet doesn't matter to us both at all.
- The expecting that someday my children will leave our nest. And that someday will always come sooner than we will ever be ready for.
- My hands hurting and my husband's asthma always make me heavyhearted, because it makes me feel old, and susceptible.
- Seeing our good househelp, and trying to imagine being in their shoes.
- Thinking of how little money we had when we were starting out while I was pregnant with our first, and I had just quit a high paying job and we were trying to make ends meet.
- Our adventures in the US, starting BC and photographing/writing the whole issue myself while I was pregnant with my second; feeling invincible at times, and then getting humbled several times throughout. The up and down ride. I will tell you about this another time.
I decided to stop writing now, but feel free to leave me a note on what makes your list. Although I don't have a hard time finding my way to Weepyville, I am quicker to get onboard the Happy train. First stop, the one and only photo from my wedding day, 6 months pregnant with Sabina.
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