Cry baby

The title of this article is the name of the song by Janis Joplin, as in "cry-y-y-y-y, ba-a-a-aby"—not crybaby, as in someone who complains frequently with little cause. If I'm a crybaby, I do have just cause. But lately, it's been more like cry baby—when you least expect it. The other night I was de-stemming baby spinach as I wanted to use only the leaves (it's a 'Dennis is looking over my shoulder' thing...), and all of a sudden I was weeping. He used to make us big baby spinach salads for dinner sometimes, using a variety of goodies like chopped onion, garlic, Canadian bacon, a cheese or two, tomatoes—you get the idea. Doing that for us was no longer in the equation, and my buried emotions boiled to the surface. Once again, a simple daily act induced tears.

I just had another minor eipsode a few minutes ago while folding clothes. It's only my clothes now; his are not even around any longer, and pow—out of the blue, the emotions spilled out...again. Big sigh...

I have so many days on the horizon that are going to be rough, that I'm sure it plays a part in all these tears. And I realize everything I'm going through, especially this first year, are necessary steps. But my feet are sore.