The Freedom to Cry

At work, everything is business as usual. At home, Elena is unaware that there is a national disaster on her mother's mind all day long. Groceries still have to be bought, breakfast made, dishes done, the house kept...All that must continue, but underneath all the routine:

I wish I were a caterpillar and I could just spin myself into a gossamer cocoon.

I wish I were a bird and I could fly away.

I wish I were a goldfish, swimming underwater in a bowl with a glorious memory span of three seconds.

Or, at the very least, I wish I were a child who could cry whenever I felt like it. Nobody would look at me and judge me for turning on the waterworks. Nobody would worry that I was losing it. Nobody would chastise me for letting a storm of emotions pass through my body. If only I were a child and had the freedom to cry, I would be swept away in a flood of tears by now.