Defective Ducts

I have defective tear ducts.

Honestly.

I get that it is important to make tears to moisten your eyes, to clear out dirt and debris, and I’m sure there is another really good purpose. I understand that tears come naturally when you are crying your eyes out in grief, extreme joy, and maybe even during intense anger or pain.

But why do tears insist on making an appearance during the curtain call of a middle school production of The Wizard of Oz?

Yes, you read it right. There they were, the cast of teenage players, all lined up with the crowd clapping madly; and suddenly my eyes are morphing into a glassy shade of red, the wetness filling the inside corners.

I could excuse myself if I had a daughter or son in the play, someone I had watched struggle and triumph over their stage freight, or witnessed them putting in the countless hours to learn their lines perfectly. Yes, my emotions would be right there with them, cheering (or tearing, as it were) them on, celebrating their victory.

But not knowing their individual struggles, I was sitting there imagining myself in their place, knowing how difficult it would have been for me; for I would have never had the guts to perform anything. I would have never even tried.

I teared up thinking about these brave young souls, pushing themselves to limits they didn’t even know they could reach. I watched proudly, I was in awe, because to me, this was greatness.

And as is true with anything great…my tears insist on being a part of it all.

Hannah, you were beautiful, gracious, and sugar sweet; everything the Good Witch Glinda should be!