everybody hurts sometimes

On the el platform last week, a woman was crying. She stood about 10 feet away from me, a short, heavy-set, middle-aged African American woman. Her face was serene, expressionless, but tears flowed down her cheeks and she made no effort to wipe them.

I wondered what could be wrong. Was one of her children in trouble? Did she have an argument with someone she loved? Or was she just feeling heaped with all the pressures of life?

We boarded the el and I sat facing her and contemplated what, if anything, I could do. The woman stared at nothing in particular. Her face never revealed her emotions, but her tears gave her away. I thought about getting up and sitting next to her. I thought about hugging her. Instead I said a silent prayer that she would know she's not alone. Because as R.E.M. sings so well, everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes.

In all of our differences, our finger pointing, our high horses, our self-imposed isolation, we are all just human. We all know sadness and grief and heartbreak. It's just not very common that our tears so grandly betray us in public.

Thinking about it now, I feel honored to have witnessed my fellow traveler's tears. If I see that beautiful woman waiting for the Brown line again, I will not think about our differences. I will be reminded that our hurts make us so much alike.

The next time my heart runs down my face in public, I hope I can stand like my friend on the platform: not hiding, just letting the tears fall. Hoping that my pain reminds someone else that everybody hurts and no, no, no, no, you are not alone.