Nothing you ever did was so sweet as when you tried to cheer me up. I am not so unhappy a person that you cheered me up very often, but when you did it was delightful. Mostly, you were puzzled by the way I cried; quiet and unobtrusively. Simply tears rolling down my cheeks with the occasional sharp intake of breath. You’ve clearly never seen me in truly trying times, dear.
I was turned backwards in the seat of your SUV looking at the moon when I first cried in front of you. You quietly asked if you could help and were greeted with a brisk “well I don’t know what exactly you think you can do about this.” We sat there forever just waiting for something to happen. The atmosphere was stagnant as you searched for something you could do, but you eventually settled on comforting me.
“It’s normal to feel this way.”
“No.” I said. “It’s not. I’m being horribly ridiculous.”
“Well, you can think that if you want, but I know that it’s not often a pretty girl has a real reason to cry.”
“You’re not allowed to quote from Meet Me In St. Louis to a girl who grew up watching that stuff. She’ll catch you in a moment.”
“Well, you are very pretty. Even when you cry. And that’s not a compliment. It’s simply a matter of opinion. ”
You always were able to pick me up out of the temporary slump due to your ineptitude if nothing else. Anyone could see how awkward you were! Sitting half a mile off, worried that touching me may cause me to crumble further into sorrow. Terrible melodramatics, driving around in circles, walking in circles and timidly offering a Kleenex and a shoulder to cry on. You always acted as if I was some demi-god in human form who has suddenly broken something and been left helpless.
I am only human, dearheart.