Tissues

Would you think I was crazy if I told you that it was a really big deal to me that someone offered me a box of tissues, today?

I visited a pastor this afternoon-- One that I don't know very well, which made it more and less scary simultaneously.

And, to my suprise, I cried a lot during this little visit.

During one of these crying spells, I looked up to see the box of kleenex that had been sitting on pastor-guy's desk held out to me. I'm really terrible, because my first thought was, "That's so cheesy... Yeah, like holding out tissues is going to make me feel any better."

My second thought was, "I could so totally have gotten my own tissue. I'm independent. I've been doing all sorts of stuff all by myself for quite a while now."

And then I thought, "But isn't the point of my being here that I don't have to be doing this incredibly overwhelming feeling and grieving stuff by myself if only for a few moments?"

So I took the tissue.

It's been a while since there's been a real, live, warm, breathing person in the room while I'm processing through this stuff. Andy is usually my tissue-offerer (though frequently, I just use his shirt. ahhh, love), but he can't be right now.

It just felt good to have this tiny, little tangible symbol of support.

My nose felt better too.