Maybe I am more sentimental than most. Maybe I am more prone to a melancholy overload. Maybe, I feel the atmosphere around me more than others. But something about a beautiful, solitary moment can undo me, overwhelm me, and leave me completely delighted with tears. Yes, I start to fill up and before I realize it I am nearly crying. There is nothing uncommon, heartbreaking, or bewitching in the moment, just a book and a hot drink. Just a moment where no one is talking to me, but the house is full. Just one moment where my feet are warm and I’m lost in a fleece blanket and a new book. Outside, the snow has trapped us and inside the music is playing with us. Just one moment that feels so right. And I cry because I feel full, and I cry because of the those pieces missing.