There are three events where, without fail, I will cry:

1. Weddings
2. Graduations (particularly high school graduations, but I’ve been known to shed a tear or two at college ones as well)
3. Pride

At each of these events, at some point, I’m overwhelmed by the hope and joy the occasion represents, and am so overcome by emotion that I burst into tears. I’m not a very pretty crier, either. More of a gasping for breath, red-nosed, blurry eyed crier. It usually doesn’t last very long, just a few minutes, and tends to surprise those who haven’t experienced it before.

Today was the Pride Parade in San Francisco. I met two dear long-time friends, and we sat on steps on Market Street which gave us a great view of not only the parade passing by, but also a tremendous vantage point for people watching. We watched floats from businesses (Safeway, Google), churches (Mission Bay Community Church, Episcopalians, Catholics (with a Santa Claus?)), causes (cage free animals, right to bear arms), and community groups (adoption agencies, alliances of LGBT groups from around the world). We observed young ones in rainbow tutus and beads walking by, as well as old ones in leather getups or naked. We relished the sunshine beating down on our bare shoulders (a rare occasion here in the city), clapping for and waving at parade participants. At one point we stood up, dancing to the music of Sylvester, Queen of Disco, and that’s when the tears started to flow. My companions immediately hugged me with reassurances that it would be okay, and all I could murmur through the sobs was, “I’m just so happy…”