Bet I wasn't the only woman sobbing in distress on hearing the news of the autistic teenager who'd gone missing at the Victoria market on Friday night. Sitting having breakfast with my partner and son, safe in the warmth of our domestic happiness and health, I was unable to choke back the sobs as I heard the mother plea for assistance in finding her son. A minute later, the news broke that the boy had been found, and my sobs turned to gasps of relief. My emotional responses were instant and dramatic, but the boy and the man in the room, while sympathetic, were silent. But I know I was not alone, because an hour later I heard an interview with the woman who found him. He had walked all the way out to Balwyn, I think it was, and she saw him in the street as she was helping her own child to get dressed. He asked if she knew his mother, and she said she would help him find her, but then broke up in her own tears as she told the story. I knew exactly how she felt.
Is this the heightened emotion of my chemically-induced menopause? or is it the generalised burden of womanhood? or just a mother thing?