Several days ago Paige went down for a nap after a particularly moody day up to that point. She made up for it, though, by being quite snuggly and huggable just before nap. I tucked her in, gave her a kiss and shut her door with a sigh of relief. I went to my own room feeling so depleted and defeated. I got under the covers; laying on my left side, and pulled those sheets up over my right ear. I just sort of stayed right there in the silence and stared at the window and my mirror on the wall; not thinking. This sort of melancholy washed over me and my mind began to consider how Paige would one day be too big to be interested in cuddling with me or sitting in my lap to read a book. My very favorite things. It's rare she wants to cuddle, but in a few years it will likely be a thing of the past. The thought made my throat close up. A big tear welled up in my right eye and slipped out and down across the bridge of my nose and plopped down onto the pillow. It fell the exact same way my brother's tears did the day my grandmother died. He was nine (almost ten) and I was four (almost five). I was too little to understand the gravity of what was happening. I sat on the floor solemnly studying my brother's face as he lay on his side on the couch. He was clutching the pillow beneath his head and had such a calm face. I had never seen him cry (that I'd noticed to that point in my young life) and I was fascinated by the chubby tears that silently rolled out and down across the bridge of his nose and plopped onto the cushion. Perhaps it was the first time I'd noticed that someone else could have sad feelings too. Someone that seemed so big and strong. It's an emotion that ties us all together for whatever the reason. Anyway, a few of my own tears fell as I recalled that day in July so many years ago. Now, I was certainly hormonal. Certainly melancholy. I took a deep breath in and realized just how worn out I feel from all we have been working through lately. From trying to be strong every second. It was necessary to lay still and give in, just for a little bit. Soon, I fell asleep and woke up with the tiniest bit of extra energy; enough to press on through the rest of the day anyway. Not every day feels like a triumph. It's important to note the days that are hard, cumbersome and tiresome. There's a lot of those lately. But they always remind me to appreciate and treasure the good ones. The sweet ones that lives are built around. I know more and more are on their way.