The woman who was working out next to me at the gym today was crying, very quietly.

I didn’t know why she was crying – it could have been so many things. I didn’t feel like I could do anything for her except give her a moment of privacy and space and pretend as if I hadn’t seen her crying.

I could have gotten her a drink of water, or asked if she was okay. But it might have hurt her pride to be witnessed or seen or spoken to when she was crying, especially when the emotions were so intense that she couldn’t keep the mask on. People can be so delicate, especially when they’re trying to be strong. It’s not a shameful thing, to be delicate. So are most ecosystems.

I don’t know if I would have had the right words to try to make her feel better. I wouldn’t have known what to say.

But I have very often not had the energy to mask or keep the sadness or anger or frustration or grief contained or get up and leave and go somewhere else so nobody would see me cry. Steve has the terrible privilege of seeing me cry, like – all the time. And I have definitely cried, quietly, at the gym.

Sometimes it helps not to have to wear the stupid mask.

Solidarity.

December can be so mean.