The Making of a Superhero

I'm reading a book about being heroic right now. It's totally provocative and interesting (as some of you might know, I've wanted to be a superhero since I was a little girl), and yet at the same time, in the middle of all this inspiration, I keep falling asleep.

Steve and I were talking about this last night--how there are different seasons in each of our lives. Right now, I'm in a season of needing some extra sleep, after two months of planes, trains, automobiles and hotel rooms. Fortunately, though, these seasons change on a regular basis, so it's okay to doze off in the middle of hero training. (Actually, having seen the previews of Will Smith's new movie, I think catching up on my sleep before learning to fly or leap tall buildings might be a VERY good idea. It seems like depth perception and sound judgment are valuable skills in the superhero world...)

That said, here's how I began my superhero training yesterday (in between naps): I drove around the suburbs searching for a good cry. I played Patty Griffin songs. I wondered about a dead squirrel on the side of the road, and where he was going when the car came along. I watched the rain hit my windshield and searched for hidden meaning in the clouds. You know, helpful tear-producing activity, because I needed to cry.

Nothing is wrong in my life. I'm not sad. Just the opposite, actually: I'm a bit overwhelmed by everything that has happened over the past year or so, and how wonderful it all is, and a good cry is an oddly helpful way for me to process that. Have you ever felt this way? If so, you understand that when you feel this urge coming, it's best to figure out a way to do something about it, lest it burst forth like a shaken soda in the middle of some public gathering. Sometimes, it's smart to ease the pressure ahead of time.

So I'm driving through the rain, tears welling up, and I'm already starting to feel better. And that's when it hits me: I'm in a new car, and there are NO TISSUES of any form anywhere in the vehicle! Now, I'm a rather liquidy crier; no small polite sniffles for me. So if I continue on my present course, I'll have nothing but the floor mats and/or my t-shirt (which is cute and new and NOT something I want to use as a hanky) to sop up my emotional purge.

So I stop. I turn Patty Griffin off, and switch to the sports channel. I push the squirrel from my mind, and notice how well the windshield wipers work. I put the cap back on that bottle, and hope that it won't blow.

My first lesson in superhero preparedness? BRING TISSUES.