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I cry at baptisms, funerals,  and touchy movies. There are more                                                                                                    less-eventful venues that touch my heart and turn on the faucet.
I'm not one given to opening up to people                                                                                                          about things personal, and if I should proceed                                                                                                          with this openness with you, it too is unusual.                                                                                                        I'm usually tite-lip with eyes wide open,                                                                                                              sporting a heart shut and just barely cracked.                                                                                            
Nevertheless, there are times I sense a need                                                                                                            to vent, to open up, to muse a bit about things                                                                                                       personal; soliciting, not opinions, but simply                                                                                                          ears and hearts open to things from the heart.                                                                                                                  Perhaps that time is now. Got a minute or two?

Sometimes, we feel the rhythm of our lives in a song.                                                                                                Sometimes, we can name that tune in a note or two.                                                                                             And sometimes, we feel our life is best expressed in a song.                                                                                              

First, let's be clear about one important thing. I can't sing.                                                                                               But yet I hear the sound of a theme song for a TV show                                                                                           that I watched as a child.  "Head em up; move em out.                                                                                             Rawhide!"  I also feel like singing the song, "I get around",                                                                                                         followed by "On the road again".  In a much larger sense,                                                                                        my mobility has been very measured, but in my own mind,                                                                                                I have been "A travelling man".  So deep inside, I think I cry                                                                                                       because I'm tired; tired of starting over; tired of rebuilding;                      and presently, stillness pleases me, and mobility wearies me.                                                                                                                                         

I have yet to sigh openly about it, but deep inside, I cry. I cry                                                                                  because I have consented to do something that I do not want                                                                                        to do. I have navigated mine fields like this before, but was bailed                                                                                    out by circumstances beyond the control of anyone that was involved.
Would to God that I could be so fortunate this time around. Perhaps                                                                                           I am in too deep, too far along to turn back now without a heartbreak.                                                                             I'm happy and content on Weatherby Way, writing poems and mini stories. What's could be better than entering a contest about what makes me cry?                                                                                            

With 18 moves behind me, I am resisting one more staring me in the face.                                                      My first move was my move away from home when I was 17. I thought the last move was my last when I was 62, but there's another move that has leaped into the cards. When we moved into this abode nine years ago, I thought it would be my launching pad to my heavenly mansion, but there might be a number 19 waiting in the wings.  Yes, I have consented to moving, but I would much rather stay.  If you're looking for honesty, presently, this is making me cry so deep inside. So, if you should hear me singing songs about mobility and moving; songs like, 'I'm A Travelling Man', 'I Get Around', and 'On the road again', or 'Rawhide', don't be surprised.

070921PSCtest, What Makes You Cry, Chantelle Anne Cooke
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