Yesterday was weird, with triggered animosity. It was my son’s birthday; we had not spoken to him or his family in two years.
Last night, I dreamed I was with my mother. I asked her if she regretted having all those kids; she said yes. I have not spoken to her since my father’s death three years ago.
I’m dreading work today. It is the start of another week of things I don’t want to do. Happy Monday.
Write Now and Later 