Crying over beauty

Situated high on the hills of L.A. rests the Getty Centre, a world-renowned complex of buildings that houses millions of dollars of art and sculpture. The views are breathtaking and the technical aspects of Richard Meier’s architectural design are astonishing.



Within the series of buildings on the property, lies a long and shallow fountain where birds land for a quick sip and children splash the water with their little hands.

After taking a tour of the grounds, I walk over to a set of tables and chairs beside the fountain for a break. I pull out my bottle of water and the muffin that has squished to half its size while inside my mitchell, and look around.

Then something happens.



My eyes well up with tears.

Being surrounded by this beautiful scenery makes me want to share it with someone. I want someone to see what I see and feel what I feel. But, I can't. There’s no one here with me. I am alone.

Normally, I enjoy doing everything by myself. I like to plan my own schedules, set my own timelines and not feel like I have someone running behind me, whining about how tired they are, wanting a break or asking when we're going to eat.

Not this time. This time I want to have someone to take part in this experience with me.

Knowing that I made the choice to be alone on this trip, I make no comforting comments to myself.

With a couple of swipes of my index finger, I wipe the tears from my eyes, take a few sips of water to rehydrate, and continue on with touring the museum.