A Good Cry

I wept a river, and then I waded in it

Mar 21, 2026

Pretty things I did not, and will not, buy: Alex Mill ballet flats, Modern Sprout gardening shears, Gohar World lemon squeezer, All Modern lamp, Don Fisher mini minke whale purse

Dear Friends,

This week, I had a good cry.

The first tear fell during the Oscars last Sunday when Michael B. Jordan won the award for Best Actor, and he pointed to his proud mama in the audience. A day later, I teared up some more when characters on The OC shared grief over the loss of their daughter and best friend. The next night, Maira inadvertently snapped at me, and the dam broke.

I fought the tears, but the tears won, and pretty soon I was burying my sopping face in Rama’s chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m just sad,” I said.

I was sad because I had spent most of my Saturday trying to get Maira’s broken Apple watch to work. I was sad because we are in a war that never had to begin. I was sad because I wasted paper and ink by accidentally typing “40” instead of “4” when I clicked print. I was sad because the people in power don’t care about us. I was sad because my period hadn’t come yet, and I’d been stuck in PMS for weeks.

I wiped some tears away, but they kept coming, so I let them fall. I let myself cry.

Is it weird to say it felt good? Not just afterward. But, like, while it was happening. It was as if a valve that had been stuck shut finally came loose. It was liberating. I went to bed with swollen eyes and a stuffy nose, but the weight on my shoulders felt a little bit lighter.

xo Christine