not responsible.

This week a friend of mine said she was going to stop reading my blog posts.

Because they’ve been making her cry recently.

I can’t say it’s been my goal to make any reader cry.

But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t somehow a tiny bit pleased that my words could strike a chord that would potentially make someone cry.

I think I consider it a compliment.

Not because I love tears.

(Although you know I joined the ranks of The Criers not that long ago.)

But because I love the power of words.

The power of story.

And it’s infinitely flattering to even hope my words occasionally have that potential.

When I directed the theatre program at my former school in Virginia, my favorite plays were the dramatic ones. The ones where audience members cried. (And not because their precious child was on stage.)

Goodness – I loved the season I directed “I Never Saw Another Butterfly”.  It’s a beautiful story with moving poetry and a stirring story line.  I watched from backstage as audience members wiped tears from their eyes while high school students delivered their lines.

It was satisfying.

Maybe that’s some weird sickness on my part. (Don’t bother telling me if it is.)

Anyway.

I just want you to know, this post won’t make you cry.

You’re safe today.

This post is about the day I let two of our children borrow my phone to take pictures of their dolls.

I don’t have much to say about the photos.

I think they speak for themselves.

First they hit the road.

And climb a little fence.

And fill their time with various activities.

They pass the time on the rope swing together.

Clean up a bit after their time outside.

Drive around town to visit the yard landmarks.

Peep through windows and creep a few people out.

And they finally hit the road again.

Two final thoughts:

What do I do with thirty doll photos on my phone right now?

And ……

If this made you cry, there may be no hope for you. I cannot be responsible for that kind of emotional damage.

(Unless those were tears of fear. The fear of dolls probably has an official moniker these days. I’m pretty sure my husband has a support group you can join.).