“I miss Tias, mommy,” my three year old tells me. “Me, too,” I answer. She’s looking in her lap.
It’s the middle of the night after a long trip and my husband hands me a pile of mail. I’m not quite sure
Actually, I’m not quite there yet. I can barely face a whole day, let alone a whole year.
I sit on the couch holding the baby. John’s searching hulu. “What do you feel like?” he asks.
Leaning against the car window, I scan the side of the road ahead for deer. I don’t know why I can’t trust John with…
Sitting next to Micah, I watch him play. Left arm stretches, little fist in a ball. Right arm tucks in, fist in a ball….
We’re getting ready to open presents. Under a tree the children decorated and little Tiggy…