I Cried Today

I happened by a video today.  It was sweet, and devastating.  It was hopeful and courageous, and brave and tearful.  It really had no relevance to me, other than the deep seeded sympathy I had for a young mother in her decision to grace another family with the child she was carrying.  It was a video letter to her daughter, on the day after she was born, as her new adoptive family carried her home.  I sobbed through the whole thing.  

I cried, not only for a young mother placing her daughter into the hands of someone she chose to raise her child, but for her heart ache and for every missed moment. 

I found myself overwhelmed with this longing, and cried for every missed moment of my own.  That's the thing about touching moments - they spark this feeling in my belly, and fire like synapses, making attachments to everything I know.  I found myself crying for every missed moment I have had, selfishly knowing that I will be afforded a million more as years pass, but for just a moment, I took the time to cry for everything I have missed.  

For every good night said, but not under my own roof.  For every trip that I wasn't behind the photographic moment.  For every smile I never saw, for every laugh I missed.  For every fear that I couldn't calm, for every other hand that held theirs.  For every decision made, including those that did not belong to me, that forced missed moments, I cried.  

There is something to be said for the release of emotion.  It is a necessary device.  To hold the emotion, own it, and then... rejoice in the gratitude of what is.  

For every missed moment, I cried, and set my tears on the warm spring breeze.