Oh, the feeling of discomfort When your pantyhose roll down . . .! They start to slip and crawl and slide . . . All you can do is frown....

Time was I had you close by, day and night, awake and asleep. ~~~ Now you come for a few days, a week, and it’s so easy to accept your return, ~~~ like a familiar blanket to curl up under, so hard to accept the return of your absence after what is a mere moment in my heart. ~~~ I remember time was I thought you’d be mine forever in some way, distance be damned, then proceeded to teach you how to be your own. ~~~ Mother’s job done. I miss the blanket. ~Sara Sarn

My children have been fighting for 240 minutes. Yes, I counted. 240 or 14 thousand 400 seconds of whining and fussing about absolutely nothing. Nothing is wrong. They have food and clean clothes, a house dry from the rain and spring storms. 14 thousand 400 seconds of stressing me out. Not long ago, the sounds of distress the blister of quarrel spilled over to my feet’s edge and I would mediate over their protests a habit I had to quit in order to initiate growth