That would be me.
I am taking care of daily life. Caring for my daughters. Making dinner. Volunteering. Taking part in small talk with neighbors. Updating my Face*book status. Going to sleep. Waking up. Shopping at Wal-*Mart.
But I am wounded. To the core.
Irreparably, beyond the shadow of a doubt wounded beyond measure.
And the kitchen needs tidying, shower needs to be taken, book needs to be read, children need to be put to bed.
Like I said, wounded.
Thinking of our little Blast-On-Ice makes me want to cry. He has such pressure on his undifferentiated shoulder cells.
8 hours ago