Crying isn’t for sissies 

The young girl was sitting on the sidewalk with her feet in the dirt, hands resting on her thighs. She was holding her iPhone, of course, as they do these days. 

A middle aged woman with a kind face walked by her. She paused. Noticed something. I lowered my car window. 

“Are you ok?” The woman slowed and took a step backwards towards the teenager. “Yes, I’m ok,” she lied as her face crumbled and told a different story. Maybe she wanted to be left alone. I know how she feels. 

I had had a bad day, too. But no one around me all day noticed. No one asked. I wanted to pull the car over, run across the street, hug the girl close and encourage her to have a good cry. Let it out, I’d say. Just let it out. 

I drove on. Headed home. I slowed and looked at her from my window but I didn’t stop.