I'm not much of a crier.

In fact, one of my father’s greatest laments about me for a large portion of my life has been my lack of emotion. I long lamented to those with whom I sought counsel that I was emotionally autistic, if there is such a thing.

“Emote!” my dad would challenge me. But, I never did. I was a stalwart, stoic in the face of tragedy, or loss, or sorrow. I was the one people leaned on at funerals, even my own grandfather’s, because I didn’t cry. I was strong and stable … but eventually I became cold and reclusive.

But falling in love has made me cry. I'm experiencing an entirely new array of emotions, from true, deep laughter to simple happiness. I have satisfaction in the moment in a way that I never have before. I can see myself responding with more compassion towards people in general than ever before. I provide better customer service at work, because I’m genuinely happier.

Lately, when I’m with her, I want to do a jig, because there is so much happiness and joy bubbling up inside of me. I can’t help myself. I connect emotionally with characters in movies and books and television shows, and cry when something tragic or exceptionally wonderful happens to them. And when I see the face of a child, or the smile of an infant and the laughter and wonder of that youth, I can’t imagine how anyone could ever not love them. I find myself eager to start a family, but I don’t know how I could possibly have any more love for my own children than I do for my almost-nephew.

I sound sappy, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’m experiencing life in a way that I never have before.