Love To Cry

The boys are gone. The oldest girl is gone. This weekend is all about me and my baby girl. Who is 11, but will always be my baby girl.

Since I am ordered to sit with my foot elevated, she made the homemade pizza. It was excellent. A cheesier pizza has never been created.

Then she said she wanted to watch a movie that would make her laugh. She picked Little Women. That movie never fails to turn me into a blubbering mess of tears. Since we are used to sharing the couch with six people, we sat smashed against each other, holding hands, and sobbing into each other's shirts. The movie lead us through anger, joy, fear, and intense sorrow. It left us splotchy-faced wrecks of girly emotion.

"Remember when I said I wanted to watch a movie that would make me laugh," Emery said. " I guess what I really meant was that I wanted to cry. Sometimes I love to cry! Let's watch home movies from when we were babies so we can cry some more."

Girl time. Nothing else even compares.