I picked up a book of short stories the other day to read through while I had a few minutes to spare.
6 pages in. That's about as far as I got before the water works kicked in. It wasn't sobbing crying or the heaving kind. It was silent. Wet just spilled out, ran down my cheeks and dripped off my chin. I found myself obsessively blinking, hurrying the tears out, in order to continue reading.
The story had sad elements, but also profoundly happy, beautiful ones, too. What was it? It's not like I haven't wept while reading before, but this was different.
While reading Between Me and the River, I let out the sobbing, aching type of cry. That resulted from my connection with the author and my heartfelt sorrow for her experiences as a cancer patient. It's source was tangible and made sense to me. She was in pain, I felt that pain.
Why did this short story make me cry? What was the catalyst? I've been thinking about it a lot. The only conclusion I've come to is that it was one of the finest, poetic, most beautiful pieces of writing I have ever encountered.
Thanks to Bookfoolery for the recommendation and Simon Van Booy and his story, Love Begins in Winter, for knocking me off my feet.
Have you been deeply moved by a book or story recently?