News of animals, their misfortunes. Hopefully she has not seen these stories. I wouldn’t know.
Broken egg yolks. I give her the perfect yellow rounds, the slightly bigger shrimp, the cookie with more chocolate chips. I am nothing if not vigilant.
Worry about her health, especially her asthma. My anxiety will not help her breathe.
Worry about my own health. The little things. My body is my job, not hers.
Silly, daily mistakes I make. Which might, at this age, cause her concern.
My soiled childhood. This is what therapists are for, to hear the words that must be said to those will not be gutted.
Behavior I regret, the pages of our book I want to rip out. Admission is not absolution. Instead of infecting her with these images, I offer myself now, the improved version, the best I can muster. So far.
💜
Thank you for stopping by.
I had no words to say, it’s so personal and moving. Thanks for sharing this with us! 🤩
❤️
Amazing and beautiful I’d love to live through your lens for even just a day. So smart, insightful, and generous. Thank you.
Robert, that might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you so much.
As always, your most lovely self, Jean. You are adored for all you are.
Blushing with pleasure and gratitude. Love you, Janet
How profoundly loving. Powerful brevity. I loved it.
Thank you, Lily. I do think there is power in brevity.
Bella! I am floored by your generosity, honesty and courage. Ive already gone back to read this at least a dozen times today. Powerful. Selah! Happiest Springtime to You & Cindy. XOXO
Right back at you, my wise and loving friend. You see the best in everyone and everything.