My regular readers probably know that I babysit my two granddaughters before and after school.
Last Friday, Cliff took a vacation day from work and was tackling some project in the shop when Monica and Natalie got home from school. They were in and out a lot, sometimes with Cliff, sometimes playing with neighbor kids or jumping on the trampoline. They're nine and (almost) eleven, so they don't require a lot of watching, although I do check often to make sure they don't stray too far from our property.
Monica had come in to watch TV and I was at the computer when Natalie came in the door crying as though her heart would break. Turns out she'd fallen on the sidewalk, and had really scraped her hands raw. Upon examination, one knee needed a couple of band aids.
Crisis averted and tears dried, Natalie said, "Grandma, nobody heard me crying."
She sounded so sad when she said it, as though that were the biggest part of her pain.
I've turned that phrase over in my head many times since Friday, realizing that it puts into words one of human-kind's biggest fears... that we'll cry, and nobody will hear.
I'm thankful today that I have someone to hear me when I cry.