I Didn't Cry

I didn’t cry.

Me.  The emotional basket-case of the family.  

I didn’t cry.

The one who cries at everything.  I cried when Charlotte dies, a spider for crying out loud.  And I hate spiders (sorry Maria Montessori, but I just don’t like some of Nature’s children).  I cried when Jim Craig had his horse shot out from under him.  I cried when Dan and Ann died (getting misty now just thinking about it).  I balled my eyes out when my friend Tabitha moved the astronomical distance to Florida when we were 7.  I cried when I flew to England for a year.  I cried myself to sleep from homesickness. 

Can you imagine what I was like during pregnancy?

I cry for every sob story article people post on facebook.

I cried when I had to leave in the middle of my best friend’s wedding in Morocco just so we could catch a flight that ended up being cancelled.  I cried a lot that day.

I cry a lot.

But I didn’t.

Not this time.

Why not?

It’s goodbye.

The distances are not as astronomical (financial maybe, but not astronomical).  We will visit.  Tacoma is not that far away.  Is that why I didn’t cry?  

Maybe I’m just in denial.

Maybe the tears are around the corner.  Maybe they’re just waiting for the right time.  

Maybe I’m not going to be an emotional basket-case any more.

Um, yeah right Rachel.

I can tell as I write this, I will cry, just not yet.