The smiling old man next to me. The only exception.

I finally have a moment to write and release my emotions, my stories.

Earlier this week I had reached my breaking point, for numerous various reasons. I was in need of a good cry, I had let everything build up, and my cup was about to overflow with a seemingly endless amount of tears. I found out my new mascara wasn't too good at being water proof.

Something about me, I don't cry in front of people, if you have seen me cry, count yourself lucky, as I only have cried in front of my ward family being touched by the spirit, or I have cried in front of very few of my closest friends, as I become most vulnerable at that moment as all the emotions and my life become shared. Rarely will I cry at home, but my car, now that is a different story. My car has heard everything. If only my car could talk...

I find no fault in crying, tears magnify the one within. I believe it is the only way God has allowed women to release all they feel. It is the only outlet we have, I have to let all the emotions I feel out. I cry when I am ultimately happy, touched by the spirit, or sad. I just don't know how to otherwise communicate my feelings, as such my feelings tend to grow to overwhelming amounts, my feelings are very strong, and I don't only feel them mentally and emotionally, but they are enough to radiate through my entire being.

I was driving somewhere, and I pulled up next to a car, and I didn't pay attention to who was sitting next to me, I was consumed by the many reasons I was experiencing every emotion you could possibly put into one person. Something caught the corner of my eye, and it was an older grandpa, he had his face plastered to the window of his car, and was sending me the utmost cheesiest smile someone could muster up.

This of course stopped me dead in my tracks and forced a small chuckle from my mouth. He kept smiling, and slowly removed his face from the glass so he could wave at me and sign to me to smile. There was something familiar about him, his kind, old yet wise knowing eyes, his warm inviting smile, I was enraptured at the beauty a grandpa could produce, it makes me miss my grandpapa even more than ever thinking about-I can only wonder and dream how it would be if he was here. What would it be like if he was here? Who would I be? Would he be proud of me?

Anyways, as I sheepishly wiped away my mascara filled tears from my face, I found in me, the strength forced from every fiber of my being, to smile. I wish it had been more genuine, but it was there.

The light turned green and I took off heading in opposite directions with both of us waving and smiling at each other. Whoever that man is, I wish to thank him for what he did, it made all the difference.