Thanks to “Auntie Rachel,” it was “date night” last night. As Drake and I were driving to dinner, we wound up in a sob fest. We were blubbering and bawling, much like one might do if they hadn’t cried in years (though our tears had been running just a few hours prior).
We finally came to a breaking point in our weeping where we could get out of the car to dine at the restaurant. As we were walking into the café with swollen, red, tear-stained eyes and face, a smirk swept across my face at the realization that it hadn’t even crossed our minds to freshen up or try to minimize the appearance of our tears before entering a public place.
It seems we have grown in not being as concerned about our appearance and what others might think of us; maybe we are becoming more secure to just be who we are, even in our human messiness.