She said it was the best cup of coffee she'd had since their trip to California. She'd loved it there. The wind in her hair from the ocean and the foggy nights filling up all of the space between them. Dropping temperatures that made them huddle for warmth and appreciate those jeans like it was November, when in fact it was just another July in San Francisco. The sound of trolley bells outside the hotel window and the hot taste of Thai food still on the tongue.
There is a difference you know between crying and weeping. She said she'd learned it from personal experience. And that if you were ever in a position to know the difference yourself, you should take it. Weeping, she said comes from your soul. It is like sap that flows from the roots of an ancient tree, moves through you with this fierce gentleness and makes you remember everything good that's befallen you, everything that holds you grounded. All the people you've loved with your heart wide open.
She said she'd taken chances where others had fallen short, been afraid. It helped, thinking this way. Otherwise she was just a ponderous fool.
