The past few days have been glorious summer. The sky is that deep, deep blue that feels like the essence of blue. The trees and grass are rich late summer green, and a breeze keeps the sun from completely baking you. When you stand under the shade of a tree, the world feels very nearly perfect.

But it’s not.

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As far back as I can remember, I’ve felt everything deeply. As a little girl, I would start to cry if I thought about my parents dying, or about children in Africa with no shoes and no food. I hated being away from my parents, especially my mother, and would get so upset if she had to leave for the afternoon that she wouldn’t tell me until the day of if she had an appointment. But I experienced beauty and joy the same way – almost unbearably. The night…