Tears of a Different Nature

Yesterday was not a good day. Less than two weeks home from my trip to visit my grandmother (and gave her not only a hat, but also a prayer shawl), she fell and broke her hip. And this is less than a month after having and beating pneumonia. My mother says we are a family of fighters (and, might I add, a family of close calls).

So my grandmother is having surgery and my mother is driving up to be with her... and my birthday is tomorrow. I spent yesterday crying at my desk over all the stress I've been experiencing with a bit of pity party on the side. I ended up taking a 2-hour lunch to compose myself. When I returned to my desk, my coworkers said they knew I was sad and lonely and pushed a cup of ice cream towards me.

***

I didn't get up early this morning. I slept through my alarm with enough time to shower, but not to dry the hair. I looked in the rear-view mirror before I stepped out of the car and noticed the blond bits curling (read: frizzing) while the brown bits hung uselessly. I smoothed my hair down and strolled inside.

I was wondering why everyone was standing in the open space of the office. Then I took a few more steps and saw my desk:

They knew I was upset about my canceled plans with my mother for my birthday and took the time to make my (pre)birthday feel special. They sang happy birthday to me while I cried for the second day in a row. But these were tears of a different nature.

My boss, who was out of town at a conference, called in to speak with me. "You are loved," she said.

She is right. I am loved.