What brings a tear of joy to your eye?
There are two kinds of tearsβthe ones that weigh your heart down, and the ones that lift it up. The first kind Iβve known all too well. But the secondβ¦ ah, thatβs the kind that sneaks up on me like sunlight breaking through the curtains after a storm.
I still remember the last time it happened. I was sitting quietly in my favorite corner, coffee cooling faster than I could sip, when a message popped up on my phone. It was from an old friend I hadnβt spoken to in years. No grand speech, no dramatic reunionβjust six simple words: βIβm proud of you, always have.β
That was it. No fireworks, no music in the background, just me, my lukewarm coffee, and words that wrapped themselves around my chest like a long-lost hug. And suddenly, there it wasβthat tear of joy. The kind that rolls down your cheek before you even notice, not because life is perfect, but because for a fleeting moment, it feels enough.
Joyful tears donβt usually come in grand events for me. Not in promotions or achievements or shiny milestones. They show up in quieter moments: when my mother laughs so hard she wipes her eyes, when I finish writing something that feels more like me than I thought possible, or when I catch myself watching the sunset and realizing I survived another day with all its chaos.
A tear of joy isnβt really about what happens around me. Itβs about what happens inside meβthe recognition that even in a messy, unpredictable life, there are still pockets of pure, unfiltered goodness. And those tears, they donβt sting. They smile.
So, what brings a tear of joy to my eye? The reminders, however small, that Iβm still connectedβto people, to love, to stories, and to life itself.
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