A Good Cry

I cry. I like crying. I especially like the crying that comes from happiness.

I get teary when I see videos of dogs going bonkers when their soldier owners come home from the war.

I get teary when Ty Pennington moves the bus and the family opens their front door.

I get teary when I see little kids talking about the 9-1-1 call that saved their sisters’ lives. Or parents. Or dogs.

Yep, I like crying. I also like the crying that comes from reading a good book. I love it when the heroine writes a letter to the hero telling him why she has to go. I love it when the hero sheds one tear in his lonely bed because he knows he screwed up. I love it when Gilbert Blythe is on his deathbed and Anne is reading him the dedication from her book, Avonlea Vignettes. And what does Gilbert respond?

Gilbert Blythe: Anne, There's not going to be any wedding anymore.
Anne Shirley: You're gonna get well, Gil. I know you are.
Gilbert Blythe: I called it off. It wouldn't be fair to Christine. There would never be anyone for me but you.

Sob! Wail!

Crying over romance novels might be my favorite crying of all. I love the happily ever after but it is all the sweeter to see the H/H overcome hardship and misunderstanding and hurt and failure – because then we know love conquers all. And crying makes it all better until then.

Crying is wonderful. Except when I watch Old Yeller. Then crying sucks.