I don't cry very often these days. There are basically only two things which can lead to real crying on my part anymore: intense frustration and the beauty of perfection.
The latter's what I'm thinking about right now. Music seems to be more effective at triggering the sort of emotional state that leads to the good kind of tears than anything else, although it's certainly not restricted to it. Usually I just get a little catch in my throat or a tear in my eye; I'm not even sure if anybody has every observed it happening. Prior to this Saturday, that is, when The Chromatics got me into a full-out tears streaming down my face snifflefest.
I suspect the combination of slight dehydration, slight sleep deprivation, slight undernourishment, returning Home (Philcon in this case), being with Family and intriguing new people, and having already listened to great music all helped lower my defenses so I could get smacked in the heart. It's probably why I think I get those little tearing things a bit more often in the filkroom than anywhere else. But this was . . . huge.
So, prepped as I was, sitting at their children's concert, The Chromatics started singing Shoulders of Giants. Two lines in, I felt a little catch in my throat. Then, "...he was the only man on Earth that night who knew", and I was completely gone. I hardly even heard the rest of the song, or, really, had any awareness of anything else around me (except kdsorceress asking if I was ok...yes, I was) for the rest of the song, and I was in a haze for a good while after that. Not that I ever fully came down from it; the memory keeps catching at me.
Some moments are so perfect you can't do anything but cry. Thank you, Family, for putting me in a position to witness one, and Chromatics, for creating it.