There are tears and there are tears. This week, they seem to be pure grief; no fears or anxiety allowed. In the spring came the stormy tears, angry at everything-that-is-out-of-my-control tears, when that fateful pink slip was placed in my hands. Now school is starting and sad gentle tears fall. Pure grief. I will still be at school, but I've lost my place. So I let these tears do their cleansing. It's the kind of thing where I cover my eyes and weep, quietly, then lay my hands down, open, ready for whatever will come next.