We were wandering through the zoo when a bird flew by with a dead mouse in its mouth.
My daughter’s friend and the other kids around her screamed and eww’d and then went about their bird watching.
But not Campbell. I knew what was coming.
The questions, the tears. There’s no rationalizing the circle of life when you have a sensitive spirit like my girl.
One day this sensitivity will be her superpower. Sensitivity is what makes artists paint and songwriters write. It’s what makes me fight so hard for anyone who feels different.
But right now, the world views the sensitive ones as an inconvenience. They slow things down. They’re too unpredictable and emotional.
If you’re raising a child like mine, if you’re someone whose emotions sit right underneath the surface of your skin like me, know that when everything seems overwhelming—whether it be the death of a rodent or the demise of the world around you—you can always channel it into radical empathy.
Every creature great and small.
It’s okay to cry for them all.
To More Love,
Stephanie
