Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Five
Another wet morning. Fog so thick I can barely see.
I forget to reverse my route.
So many cars in the parking lot, but least that means there’s going to be a lot of laughter.
Where is the sun?
Morning glory muffin plus my homemade soup and garlic bread, and now I want a nap.
“He loves it when we talk about birth.”
Did I check the mailbox?
Life has been life-ing her.
Fearless action.
Almost, almost. But we’ll get there.
